Perverse
by gidget89
Summary: So many reasons for her guilt.. he knew them all. AU after Humpty Dumpty. CuddyHouse.UPDATE: Listen I get a LOT of reviews, asking, begging, pleading for this story to be continued. IT IS COMPLETE. There IS a sequel, check my profile.
1. Perverse

A/N: I didn't mean for the last chapter of Stay to be the last chapter, but it's looking that way right now. anything I try to add feels like beating a dead horse. So I was re-watching my favorite episodes and of course _Humpty Dumpty_ was one of them. And a fic idea was born. I'm not sure if it's a one shot or a series - a sort of Woulda Coulda Shoulda... I'm deciding. Input would help.

Disclaimer: House and all characters are property of David Shore and FOX. No infringement is intended. Some dialog ahem borrowed from season 2 Episode 3 - Humpty Dumpty

* * *

"Cuddy." He had paused at the door , turning around almost reluctantly as she looked up."Your guilt. It's perverse, and it makes you a crappy doctor." She wanted to feel an anger rise up in her, but she couldn't even seem to muster that up at the moment. He was right anyway – he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. He looked down and away, and she held her breath for a moment before he looked at her again before speaking. "It also makes you okay at what you do."

"You figure a perverted sense of guilt makes me a good boss?" She spoke without surprise, wondering why he was even bringing this up.

"Now would the world be a better place if people never felt guilty? Makes sex better." He was surprisingly non combative for a moment, before he pointed at Stacy with a gleam of the House she was more accustomed to. "Should have seen her in the last months of our relationship. Lot of guilt. Lot of screaming." Cuddy had almost forgotten Stacy was there until he pointed her out. He sighed, moving forward. "I know this wasn't just because it was your roof."

She had to look away for a moment, his eyes were too understanding, an expression she hadn't seen on his face in years. She wanted to believe he had an angle here, had to believe it. So she turned back to him, stealing herself for the punchline. Ready for it. "Cuddy…" He paused after he rolled out her name and she was thankful for it. She wondered if it was as difficult for him to say as it was for her to hear. "You see the world as it is and you see the world as it could be. What you don't see is what everybody else sees. The giant, gaping chasm in between." She heard his slight sigh and she wanted desperately to get them back on their normal footing. This was not a House she was used to.

"House, I'm not naive. I realize-"

"If you did, you never would have hired me." He interrupted her gently and she paused for a moment. She knew why he thought she hired him. She also knew that she would never tell him the actual reason. She had known – known how difficult he would be, how irritating and challenging and worth it. She hadn't hired him because she believed deep down he could be a better person, or even because of the night they never mentioned. Not seriously. She had hired him because he pushed her, made her a better doctor, and she needed that. Needed him.

"You're not happy unless things are just right. Which means two things. You're a good boss. And you'll never be happy." She wanted to smile at how obviously difficult it was for him to say the words, but she couldn't seem to find it within herself to be triumphant at his attempt to make her feel better. He turned, his good deed obviously done for the day and made his way to the door.

"By the way, why does everybody think you and I had sex? Think there could be something to it? I don't know." She smiled slightly, wanting to retort, but he exited quickly before she had the chance. Stacy looked at her for a moment and the smile slid off her face quickly. Guilt rose up in her again, but it was a different guilt than the one she had been so keenly feeling when he walked in. And maybe that was his plan all along.

* * *

She had been standing in her kitchen when the dripping started, watching the hot water in her mug darken as the tea seeped into it, coloring it a dirty brown. She hadn't added milk or sugar, it wasn't really worth the effort. She had only boiled the water in the first place because she needed some physical excuse for being awake. The rain had been pounding on her roof for hours, and when she heard the first sound of a drop hitting the wooden table it was an oddly hollow sound. She picked up her mug, reaching under her counter and grabbing a pot almost as an after thought.

She didn't even wipe the water there off before placing the pot there. It would probably stain her table, and cause the wood to swell, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to care. She was exhausted, it wasn't even morning but already she could tell what little sleep she had gotten wasn't going to help. A restless feeling curled up underneath her ribs, not letting her rest, but not enough to keep her awake either. Sighing, she turned away from her kitchen, leaving the light on as she made her way down the hall slowly. She was almost to her bedroom when she heard the key slide into the lock. She wanted to be upset, offended, affronted. All she felt was an intense wave of relief.

"Thought you would have moved the key." His voice was soft behind her, and she shrugged, turning around slowly. He was soaked – rain had plastered his hair to his head and he looked paler in the lack of light. She frowned for a moment, wondering why he was here, but she didn't want to ask him that. Or she didn't want to hear the answer. She placed her mug on the hall table, before turning and moving back down the hall until she reached a small door. Opening her closet, she grabbed a towel from the shelf before padding back up the hall silently and offering it to him.

"Like that would stop you." She offered the dry words along with the towel and he watched her wearily before accepting it gratefully. Or at least she imagined the gratitude.

"Well seems a shame to waste all that time and effort I put into finding your address." He didn't smile or give any indication it was a joke, but she smiled anyway. "Nice outfit by the way. Did your grandmother leave you that nightie or were you just browsing the maternity section and wishing?"

"Nice." She shook her head, turning abruptly and heading into her darkened living room and resisting the urge to wrap a blanket around herself. She sat heavily in an arm chair and he followed her, standing before her uncomfortably.

"Why are you awake?" His voice seemed unnecessarily loud in the room, and the faint sound of water pinging against metal seemed to echo his rudeness.

"Why are you here?" She answered his unanswerable question with one of her own and he nodded in understanding. The look was back on his face , the one that said he knew her better than he'd like to, than she'd like him to.

"There's no way you could have known." His voice was as awkward as his stance in front of her. Leaning heavily on his cane while he strove to fit into the room. It was a platitude, something he said to make her feel better even though he knew it wouldn't work. She sighed, curling her legs under her and staring up at him, wishing he'd sit or move across the room. Anything to stop her from having to peer straight up.

"Don't lie."

"You didn't even want to amputate-"

"I agreed." She let out a stiff breath, and stared at the floor in front of her. "I agreed because when it comes down to it- I believe you are a better doctor than I am." She shook her head slightly, unwilling to meet his eyes. "What does that say about me?" His hand on her shoulder was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He never touched her – he wasn't an affectionate person to begin with, but they had the added tension of nights best left in the past added to it.

"Cuddy.." She shivered at the sound of her name. It was the second time that day he had said it like that, slow and reluctant, but comforting. He made it sound like an endearment, and she wanted to shout at him to stop. To never say it like that again, to never stop saying it that way. Instead she stood, his hand sliding off her shoulder and her skin missing the warmth of it already. She felt more in control when she stood next to him, she didn't have to look up quite so far, she could attach her gaze to his shirt front instead of feeling her eyes compelled up to his.

"House, please.." Her voice was a whisper and even she wasn't sure what she was asking. Please what? Stop? Keep going? She wanted him to go away, with his all seeing eyes and his uncharacteristic gentleness. She didn't want to be alone either. She frowned, wondering if she should have taken Stacy up on her offer of dinner that night. Stacy was trying to be her friend, to slip back into their old roles. But none of them were the same anymore. The infarction had scarred them all.

"I shouldn't have come." He sounded sure of this, and she nodded in perfect agreement. They had rules, boundaries that had structured their interactions for as long as she could remember. He had never violated them once they were in place, but him being here- in the middle of the night, in her private space – it broke them all. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be anything other than glad he was with her now.

"I'm glad." She met his eyes then, dragging her own up past the frayed collar of his shirt, past his Adam's apple and his chin, his mouth and over his nose. His eyes looked navy in the dark room, only illuminated by the faint street light and the glow from the kitchen, three rooms away. "You still love her, don't you?" She brought up the forbidden subject of Stacy. She had always been a taboo subject for them – even before... but if they were breaking one rule tonight, why not break them all?

"No- why.." He swallowed, looking away from her own searching gaze.

"She told you to do it, right? Make me feel better? You aren't ever this nice without prompting-"

"She did ask. That's not why I said it though." His hand brushed her hair for a moment and she couldn't quite decide if it was accidental or not. "Why did you hire her?" She wanted to smile for a moment, but pressure squeezed her ribs and she couldn't manage it.

"Why do I do anything House? Guilt. Guilt for advising her, guilt for costing her- taking from her-" She stumbled over the words and she wanted to hold on to something, anything to anchor herself but she she kept her hands at her sides, wrapped around herself protectively.

"You didn't take anything-"

"Which time?" She felt like she was burning from the inside out, the feeling acidic and painful. There were so many times to choose from. Her offering Stacy the third option, listening as her friend cried and told her she couldn't do it anymore, her anger when she left, her accepting Stacy's friendship in the first place.

"Any of them." His answer was soft and sure but she shook her head in denial. "Why are you responsible for everything? Do you think you matter that much-" He sucked in a breath at the same time as she did, and she felt his words sting their way through her skin, lancing into her soul.

"I'm not responsible for everything House. Just the things I had a direct hand in. The destruction of your relationship, of your life. Those are things that I helped do. Alfredo... you.. Stacy. I destroyed those lives-"

"What about your own? You think that this is needed? Or even wanted? Do you think he hates you? That Stacy hates you?" His hands had landed on her shoulders again and the warmth burned her chilled skin. His grip tightened and his voice was intense and she felt a strange disconnection from the moment and the clear and present danger wrapped around them.

"I think they should. I think they would – if they knew. I think you.." She stopped herself, strangling the words in her throat. His grip loosened but he didn't let go, and they faced off in the dark room. It was a battle that had been threatening to turn into a war for years.

"It's perverse in the sense that it's wrong and yet you still stubbornly carry it with you Cuddy. I don't- I've _never-_" He struggled obviously with the words. Their strength just wasn't up to this conversation, not tonight. Not right now. But he had crossed the invisible line by showing up here tonight, and now she felt inertia pushing them forward. They were in motion now, and couldn't stop the movement.

He leaned down, or pulled her forward – afterward she was never quite sure which. Maybe she had even rose up to his level. When his lips met hers she felt her entire being vibrate with remembered pleasure. She couldn't form a single thought, she could only grasp at the fragments floating past, like how odd it was that he was hot and she was cold, shouldn't it be reversed? She felt the abrasion from his stubble, but she welcomed the slight irritation and pain – it wouldn't be them without it. She thought she might feel very guilty about this tomorrow, but for now her hands were around his neck and pulling him closer and his were burying themselves in the filmy fabric of her night gown, heating her skin even through fabric.

She didn't breath, didn't think, she just opened her mouth under his and almost moaned at the taste of him. She might have, she just wasn't sure. His tongue against hers was welcome, like rain after a drought, and it sent a single thrill all the way down to her center. She wondered if kissing him would ever get old – if she would ever not feel that thrill, because she has never not felt it before this. She felt lightheaded and knew it was from lack of oxygen, but she needed him more than she needed to breathe right now.

It was a mistake, she knew that. What was done, was done though and she couldn't quite bring herself to stop. His fingers were sliding under the hem of her nightgown and she didn't want to stop – but the need for oxygen took the choice away. She was breathing heavily and so was he but he dropped his hands and stepped back first. He was always first – first to speak, first to leave, first to touch. She didn't argue with him though, didn't even try to get him to stay. She stood there in the semi-dark, listening to the echo of her door. He still had her key.

She picked up the towel from the floor and locked the door behind him. She slipped silently down the hall, before laying in bed with echoes of water on metal and harsh breathing ringing in her head. She hugged the towel, it was cold and damp but smelled like him. It was a cold comfort for what was suddenly an aching chasm in her life, but it was all she had as she finally fell asleep.


	2. Screwed

A/N: Okay - so I've decided this story is a plot bunny that is going to take over. -_ moves aside_ - On the birght side, I get to rewatch Season Two which is my favorite. I feel almost fradulant, because the next - _thinks_ - two chapters will use a lot of show dialog, but I'm throwing some orginal stuff in as well. I'm going to follow the show until episode six, spin - where I'm going to start to veer away from what happened on the show. I've alread laid groundwork for it in this chapter - points to anyone who can pick it up!! I'm seriously excited about this idea - so review, people! I am an attention whore in need of constant reassurance!

* * *

Of course he avoided her – he _had_ ran out of her house in the middle of the night – so she scarcely saw him over the next few days. He even went so far as to actually remain up to date on his clinic roster – giving her literally no reason to chase him down, even if she wanted to. She didn't. She was in no mood to go over the whole thing again. It was a mistake. Obviously a product of her having too many sleepless nights combined with the realization that she hadn't had a serious relationship in years. 

She was lonely. And clearly this had chemically unbalanced her, or somehow affected her sanity. House was not a solution to her problem. He caused her problems, but he never solved them. She just needed to get out more- needed to stop flirting with disaster and just figure out an actual solution to her problem. She sighed heavily, clutching her paper coffee cup in her hand as she dragged her feet toward the doors. She wasn't sleeping well... again. And her large cup of coffee from Starbucks seemed to scream this fact to the world as she moved stealthily through the main hall of the hospital to her office.

Brenda handed her her messages and a stack of files as she passed by. She smiled gratefully – another assistant had quit last week and Brenda was again pulling double duty. She made a mental note to increase her bonus this year, and carefully balanced the pile and her cup before entering her office. She dropped everything on her desk in an untidy pile, placing her cup beside it before turning and removing her coat and hanging it by the door. The summer was finally giving way to fall, and with it came the cooler weather. It was possibly her favorite time of year – but she hadn't been enjoying it like she usually did this year.

Sitting at her desk and swallowing too bitter coffee – she couldn't afford the sugar today, not after drinking nearly an entire bottle of red wine by herself last night – she flipped through the messages and files respectively. One message was attached to a file, and she paused at the name. Sebastian Charles. She frowned slightly, before getting up and crossing to her coffee table where she kept magazines. There it was. She grabbed the Newsweek from the pile and moved back to her desk.

Reading the file, she frowned. They wanted a second opinion – and not just any second opinion. _House's_ second opinion. She sighed, staring down at the magazine in her hands. He was a world renowned diagnostician. Charles probably wanted his opinion confirming TB to make it look all the more solid for the press – the man was a notorious media monger. Which wasn't to say his cause wasn't a good one – a great one even – it was. House hated being used as a tool though, and he would probably make this more difficult than it needed to be. The press would be good for the hospital too, however – so she felt no need to warn Charles or his people about it. Sighing she picked up the phone to page House, praying he might actually answer.

Five pages and two hours later, he finally burst through her office door, without knocking, as usual. She got up quickly, walking toward him holding the Newsweek out like a file. No point in pretending that this request was anything less than it was. If she tried to make Charles' case sound interesting, House would see through her like glass.

"Selling subscriptions? I heard twenty and you get a new bike!" He took the magazine and she ignored his sarcasm and launched into speech. She liked to talk – mostly because it meant she didn't have to listen to anything he might have to say.

"Dr Sebastian Charles collapsed during a presentation at Stoia Tucker." He was leafing through the Newsweek, unconcerned as she spoke.

"Really? Crushed under the weight of his own ego?" She stared at him for a beat wondering if he realized just how that sounded coming for him of all people before shaking her head incredulously.

"Wow. Is there nobody you admire?" She knew the answer before he even opened her mouth. House admired plenty of people – Sebastian Charles would just never get anywhere remotely near that list. He decided that saving lives was better done through the media than the medicine – and it was an avenue House hated.

"Well, there was this gal I met in 'Nam who could blow out a candle without using her-" She sighed in disgust, turning toward her desk and grabbing Charles' chart, cutting him off before he could finish that lovely thought.

"He thinks it's TB." She handed him the chart as she spoke, steeling herself for his refusal.

"Good thing he's not the syphilis expert." He spoke snidely as he glanced through the file quickly. She watched him, wishing he would just take the damn thing and leave her alone.

"He wants a second opinion."

"Second to his own?" House scoffed slightly as he stared down at her for a brief moment before returning his attention to the file in front of him. "Okay." He stared at the chart for a half a second more and the tension hadn't even begun to seep out of her body when he snapped the file shut, looking at her. "It's not TB."

"What is it?" She glanced down at the file, wondering what in the hell he could have possibly seen in that short amount of time. She looked back up at him silently and he looked at her with the expression of someone teasing a child.

"Oh you want specifics?" She rolled her eyes and turned away from him with a sigh. He kept standing there, immensely proud of himself. She really wanted to kick him, maybe in his bad leg.

"Yeah – that would be nice. You know – some crazy science to back yourself up." She leaned against her desk, reaching across it for her coffee, a new cup from the cafeteria and just as large as the first one.

"Well, that would require me actually taking the case – and I think we both know that's not going to happen." He studied her silently, before moving forward and leaning against the chair in front of her. "You drink way too much of that stuff, you know."

"Yeah well, I thought about switching to ephederine but I've heard that stuff is way worse." He scowled at her and for a moment she felt bad for shooting down his concern, but they both knew that these were the rules, and they needed to get back to playing by them. "You'd get to prove him wrong – if it's not TB. If you don't take the case, it'll just go to some other moron who won't look as closely, declare it TB and then what have you proven?"

He narrowed his eyes and fingered the file thoughtfully. "So you want me to take the case... and _not_ test for TB."

"No. I want you to take the case, and fix him. _Whatever_ is wrong with him." She spoke slowly and he glared at her for a moment before moving slightly closer. She just managed to resist the urge to move further away – he would take that as evidence she was scared. She wasn't scared. Much.

"And this has nothing to do with how good it's going to look for the hospital-"

"Of course it does House! You're not a moron. This is good PR. If he does have TB. Which he probably does – he has been in the jungle for a godforsaken amount of time, treating nothing but TB." She sighed softly, glancing up at him after she'd finished speaking. "This isn't a request." The command was gently given, but she knew he would know she was serious.

"Pulling out the boss card, huh? I just love it when you get all authoritative – like the other night-" She stood quickly, pushing him back and cutting him off.

"Out. Now." She bit out and he was grinning, looking down at her.

"In. Out. Out. In. This way you tease me is almost-" She had finally gotten him to the threshold, pushing him through and shutting the door on him quickly. She glared through the glass as he grinned before turning away abruptly and leaving the clinic. She heaved a sigh of relief, before turning back to her desk, where her coffee and more paperwork waited.

* * *

She caught him on the elevators. She had been coming down when he got on. When they arrived at his floor, she simply jabbed the door close button before he could escape and shook her head silently. He adopted an innocent look, and she thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. She remained silent, not speaking as she pushed him off the elevator in the lobby and maneuvered him all the way to her office expertly. When they arrived in her office, she turned on him abruptly, her eyes flashing. 

"It is barely eleven am and I have had two complaints about you already. Are you kidding me House?" Her tone was low and he shrugged before meeting her eyes.

"Depends, what have you heard?"

"You almost killed Charles with that tilt table test – which isn't even explainable-"

"I saved his life with that tilt table test. We never would have seen the problem if I hadn't-"

"What? Acted like a twelve year old who hates the new kid? You had absolutely no reason-" She was much too close to him, she knew – in his face but the anger had been mounting ever since her first visit of the morning from a distraught clinic patient.

"I had every medical reason!" He was leaning on his cane heavily, glaring at her as she laughed abruptly.

"Oh sure. How about the women in clinic who you-" She picked up a report that was laying on her desk and read off it. "'assaulted physically, made sexual references to, and when asked for an alternative medicine, offered to kill her cat.'?"

"I did _not_ make sexual references-" He protested, snatching the paper from her hands. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You told her she didn't like to swallow!" She was near yelling now and he gave her a condescending glance.

"Because she didn't want pills! I can't help it if everyone around me has their mind in the gutter-"

"Oh like you're the epitome of good clean living!" She snatched the form back and he leaned over her suggestively.

"Oh Cuddy – stop. All this anger and pent up frustration – it's _such_ a turn on." He was trying to see down her top and she glared at him, realizing just how close she had been standing next to him. Taking a deep calming breath that just caused him to smile in appreciation, she moved back a step or two and fought to maintain a serene appearance.

"I notice you don't deny assaulting her or offering to off her cat." She ignored his last remark and stared at him in anger. "Are you that hard up to spend time with your ex that you're going to purposely try to get sued or worse – arrested?!"

"You know I don't want to-" He rolled his eyes, cutting himself off and staring at her thoughtfully. "You're just pissed that it's not TB. All that media attention that was dancing before your eyes is all gone now -" She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking her head.

"His health is first priority House." Sighing, she rounded her desk and picked up a sheaf of papers sitting on top of the files. She slid them across the desk to him, and handed him a pen. "Here. Sign these." He glanced from her to the pen suspiciously.

"What's this? How do I know you're not making me sign a contract saying I'll do nothing but clinic-"

"Oh for God's sake House! It's renewal forms for your credentials – which are up, by the way, in ten weeks." He frowned at her, before signing the papers without looking at them and sliding them across the desk again.

"Ever the vigilant boss, huh, Cuddy? You gonna tie my shoes for me and do up my pants too? Although that last one-" His pager sounded at his waist and he looked down at it frowning before glancing back up at her. "Hey – how good will it look if Charles, say, dies? Just curious." He was walking toward her door and she stared after him.

"House- what was that about?" He was already on his way out the door though, and back to ignoring her as usual. "House!" She watched as the door swung shut, before sitting down, muttering curse words and picking up her phone. There was more than one way to obtain information in this hospital.

* * *

She stalked down the hall toward the cafeteria, secretly wondering if this was really what she had signed up for. Spending her days chasing House to reprimand him, or dealing with House's patients as they cried in her office. Two in one day seemed to be a record, even for him. He was standing in the cafeteria line up, looking at Wilson who looked mildly irritated with him. She didn't pause to wonder why – at this point she didn't much care. Her irritation was increased by the smell of the food around her – she hadn't even had time to eat. 

"You've outdone yourself." She had moved up behind them and he turned to look at her with interest. Looking down at his plate and up at the cafeteria staff he spoke wryly.

"I'll say. My salad is covering a free t bone steak." She ignored his attempt to throw her off though – they had played enough games that day and she was tired. And hungry.

"Cecelia Carter, remember her?" She cut to the chase, not really interested in their usual banter.

"Last week they said it was mystery stew. They owe me." He continued as if she hadn't spoken and she glared at him. He was watching her reaction, the expression on his face unreadable.

"She was just in my office crying, because of the way you treated her!" Her voice was soft, and he looked down at her seriously for a moment.

"That doesn't sound like you!" Wilson's sarcasm interrupted from behind her and she sighed as House's attention transferred.

"Then it probably wasn't." He turned to move up the line, and she moved ahead of him, cutting him off.

"I _get_ that you like to shock people. _Stun_ them out of complacency, out of stupidity." He was looking around them, unable to meet her eyes, and glancing back at Wilson who was listening avidly. "But this woman thought she had cancer – she had a lump in her breast!" She lowered her voice for the last part – aware of just how many people were around them. They should have been in her office for this – but she didn't think she would be able to catch him a third time that day. "What were you trying to accomplish?"

"Let me ask you something." His voice was irritated as he responded. He was leaning down into her space again, and she wanted to lean back, but instead just stared back at him patiently. "If this were another doctor – if this patient was complaining about, let's say , oh I don't know – Foreman – you'd just dismiss this as the paranoid bitching of another paranoid bitch and file it under P for-"

"Paranoid?" Wilson broke across on cue. House turned to him and scoffed.

"Am not!" She rolled her eyes and shook her head. He was right, of course – but it wasn't another doctor, it was him. And he had already tried her patience more than once today -she wasn't really up for round three.

"You're right." She answered simply, and he nodded smugly.

"Good." She leaned closer to him, staring him right in the eye.

"Apologize to her before the end of business today." She delivered the order as smoothly as possible and walked away before he could complain again. She could hear Wilson asking him what he did as she walked out – but she didn't stick around to hear his answer. She walked back in the direction of the stairwell, wondering why she was being punished today of all days. "Almost a week of calm – and peace. The one day I _don't_ avoid him.." she muttered to herself, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. Shaking her head she continued her trek up the flight of stairs, wondering if this day would ever be over.

* * *

It was barely an hour later, when House burst into her office. "This guy is an idiot!" She looked up at him with a tired expression. She decided she hated TB. She hated it – and hated Newsweek, and hated him most of all. 

"So I've been quoted saying." She responded mildly and he had the grace to look almost guilty as he made his way up to the desk. He leaned against the back of the chair there, staring down at her as she placed her head in her hands. She just needed this day to be over.

"_Sebastian_ is refusing life saving treatment." He spoke snidely and she looked up at him.

"He's refusing_ TB_ treatment. You don't think he has TB, ergo you should care less." He shifted restlessly as she spoke, looking away before returning his gaze to her.

"He won't let me test him!" He complained loudly and she fought the urge to throw something at him.

"And what to you want me to _do_ about it?!!"

"Hold him down." He responded seriously and she stared at him for a beat before deciding a change of subject was needed.

"Have you apologized to Cecelia Carter yet?" She was irritated by him, by this entire day and it showed. He sighed, looking at her.

"Trust me, she doesn't want to hear it from me." He pushed away from the chair and walked toward the door, still speaking. "Look the guy is killing himself! Am I the only one who realizes this is a bad thing?!" She reached across her desk for her lipstick as he spoke, pulling it open quickly and applying it just as carelessly. "If he was a Christian Scientist refusing meds, we'd have eighteen attorneys -" his voice faltered and he watched her, his breathing changing for a moment. He stared at her before speaking again. "You're putting on make up. That's not a good sign for my side, is it?" She tossed the lipstick aside as he spoke, looking at him seriously.

"_Sebastian _has called a press conference for three." He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, before laughter crossed his face and he dropped his head. "He's asked me to be there to confirm the diagnosis and the prognosis." she stood as she spoke and he moved forward as if to meet her.

"You are as big a media whore as he is." His voice was bitter with disappointment and she busied her hands so she didn't have to look up to see the judgment that would undoubtedly be written across his face.

"Of course I am. It couldn't possibly be that I think he's right and want to be a small part of what he was doing?" She spoke the words in automatic defense – she didn't actually agree with what Charles was doing – but if she didn't show up at a press conference in her own hospital, the board wouldn't exactly be happy about it. She looked up at him as she crossed the room, and he glanced down at her, a bit of the maliciousness gone from his expression.

"Oh whores can like the sex, doesn't meant they're not whores." He watched her intently as she took down her lab coat and when she turned her was right there. He watched her intently as he spoke. "And with that eyeshadow.." The vitriol was completely gone from his voice now as she moved closer. The insult came out more as an observation and he stared at her seriously. "I am totally screwed, aren't I?"

She leaned in, knowing that even now, he was probably forming a new plan of attack – after all, that's what this entire visit was about. She ignored it though – because House would do what he needed to to diagnose, and she would do what she needed to to keep the board happy. "Totally." She breathed, not pausing as she sailed out the door, leaving him in her office. She had a job to go face – and he had a press conference to overthrow.

* * *

She should have been more shocked when he walked in. Maybe she should have played it up more- acted more annoyed. Cameron had sure gotten it down, yelling at House about the temperature – but all she had been able to muster up was a barely half hearted 'What are you trying to prove House?' He hadn't answered her – of course he hadn't. She knew what he was doing. He knew she knew what he was doing. Proving his diagnosis. She had suspected as soon as she walked in and Cameron had launched into a spat of complaints about what House had done before Charles had waved her off. 

She knew better than most that House never did anything without reason - there was always a deeper motive with him. So she had not been able to look very shocked when he burst in – she_ had_ been able to kick most reporters out before Charles went into arrest. Once he was stabilized, she hadn't even yelled at House about the stunt he pulled. She had simply kicked the remaining reporters out of her hospital, and returned to her office to hoping to finish out her day in peace.

* * *

She had actually gotten a full night's rest. The next day was not eventful, since Charles had stopped trying to use the media as his own personal soapbox, and House was even being good since he was now able to run as many tests as he liked. Even his clinic hours were getting done on time – but she had discovered the reason for this quickly as she watched Foreman exiting the clinic later that day. When she checked the log, she saw House's name there and she shook her head – certain things falling into place. She didn't try to confront either of them though – yesterday had been a day from hell and she needed at least a certain amount of recovery time from it. 

So when she arrived at work a few days later to find Cecelia Carter in her office – she was prepared for it – even almost amused at this point. She lead the woman towards the elevators, intent on searching out House and having a little fun. She smiled when both he and Foreman – along with the rest of the team – exited the elevators. "Dr. House." She tried to keep the amusement out of her voice but she knew some of it seeped through when he met her eyes over his shoulder.

"Dr. House has an emergency." Their eyes met for a beat and she watched them move away before turning to apologize to Mrs. Carter – who insisted on waiting until 'Dr. House' was finished. She guided the women to the waiting area outside of her office, and prepared to watch.

She didn't have to wait long – she saw him outside just over an hour later, standing with Mrs. Carter, but staring at her as he apologized. He pulled a face at her as he left, and she did it right back, watching in amusement as he left. Exiting her office, she dealt quickly with Mrs. Carter, before turning to watch him leave with a small smile.

She was back in her office two hours later when her phone rang. She answered it quickly, smiling when she heard his voice on the other end. "You knew!" He accused her and she laughed slightly, leaning back in her chair and propping her legs on her desk before answering.

"Of course I knew, House. You know, I went through medical school too – got a diploma and everything. How stupid do you think I am?" She responded, her voice teasing him as he sighed.

"You know the answer to that." He responded softly and she felt her heart beat increase as she chose not to reply. He liked to flirt with the danger now that he was out of range – but she wasn't foolish enough to play along. "So when's everyone's favorite whore getting released?"

"Day after tomorrow. He'll go back you know -"

"Oh I'm sure. And nobly sacrifice his own meds for the greater good too. Gosh – he really is just a selfless soul after all. I hear they'll be anointing him once he hits the ten thousand saved mark. Sure beats the steak knife set I got when I hit one hundred." She smiled as she listened, because he couldn't see her and she couldn't help it.

"Hmmm." She stated non commitedly, as she ran a hand under her hair and along her neck.

"Why Cuddy – is that dirty thoughts about me I hear running around in your head. I've told you already – I won't sleep with you again!" His laughter was barely held in and she snorted softly.

"Right. It was horrible the last time-"

"Especially for me. Horrible. Didn't feel good at all." She grinned as she swung her legs down, her bare feet making no sound as they hit the floor.

"I could tell by all the moans... of despair." She spoke in an upbeat tone, mentally cursing herself for even getting into this conversation. They weren't far enough past the kiss at her house for them to be doing this – but it was almost reflexive now. He cleared his throat after a beat of tense silence, and she wondered if their thoughts had been in the same place – her living room on a rainy night.

"So did you send that paperwork off?"

"Of course, I'm a good boss remember?" She paused for a moment, listening to his breathing quietly before taking a deep breath. "Which unfortunately means I have no more time to play today. I'll see you tomorrow House."

"Thanks for the warning." His joke fell flat because of it's delivery and she shook her head, hanging up the phone and staring at it for a moment afterward. She wondered what in the hell she was doing – they had rules for a reason. But it was the first time she had laughed in days, and she felt a sudden fierce longing to have it all back. That happiness. That knowledge that there was someone waiting for her at home. A warm body in the night.. she felt a slight shiver at the thought as her eyes never left the phone. Maybe.. maybe the rules weren't needed anymore. Maybe they were both ready. Maybe it was time to take the leap and hope she wasn't making a mistake. She smiled again, fuller this time and squared her shoulders. Time would tell.


	3. Avoided

A/N: Next chapter is where I start deviating somewhat from what happened on the show. Is it coincidence that it's _Spin_ - the episode where House first starts showing signs of Stacy obsession? (shrugs) Maybe. Dialog borrowed from episode 5 - _Daddy's Boy_ . No infringement is intended, I'm just having fun with the would have's! Review! Grr.

* * *

He was avoiding her. _Again_. Something that wasn't unusual – but now it seemed like it was. She had fought to keep a smile off her face when she saw him pull up at lunchtime. Only House would appreciate the sublime ridiculousness of parking a motorcycle in a handicapped spot. The smile had twitched the corner of her mouth, and she had to stamp it down. He was late. 

She scowled at him as he walked in, heading in his direction, intent on at least appearing to chastise him. He saw her approach however, and he moved surprisingly quickly given his limp. Graceful in his speed, he managed to almost sprint to the elevators, the doors closing just as she was exiting the clinic. She glared at his disappearing face, but he avoided her gaze, looking up as the doors slid shut.

That was fine – clearly he had reason to avoid her in that case. But it had been a day with his new patient, and he hadn't badgered her once. There were no surprise visits to her office yesterday, no complaints from staff or patients. Oddly enough, she had spent the day waiting for the tell tale slamming of her office door – and found that when it didn't happen – she missed it.

She had of course, been watching his patient. It was a habit of hers – a matter of safety, she told herself. If House had a patient, the nurses knew to hand her copies of the file. So she found herself lingering around the nurse's desk, laying in wait. She didn't find House, however – just Foreman. She stepped closer to him, glancing across the files she was currently going though.

"How's the patient?" She asked him point blank, not bothering with the usual niceties. He glanced over at her and shrugged.

"Haven't been in yet today." She snapped the file she was holding shut before responding to him.

'As long as he hasn't gotten any worse." She knew her tone was almost dangerously accusatory, but Foreman was here – House wasn't. She stepped away, walking quickly but knowing he would follow her to check up on Carnell. "We're treating him for pesticide poisoning without any proof it was pesticides. I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining that to our lawyer." She hated the bitterness that seeped into her tone at the mention of Stacy. She needed to calm down.

"I told House not to-" Foreman's voice was clearly defensive and she couldn't blame him. Any apology she was about to make however was forestalled by the sight of Carnell, shoveling food into his mouth like he had inherited House's table manners. She stopped short at the sight.

"Wow!" she observed for a moment as Foreman leaned across toward her.

"Lawyers not going to believe this." He was smug, when two seconds ago he had been trying desperately to shove all blame on House. She blinked, about to speak to him when the father spoke, thanking them for whatever they were doing. Foreman nodded, accepting the gratitude she knew House would avoid, before entering the room to check on the kid, giving her a significant glance as he did so.

She shook her head – and spied House turning the corner ahead of her quickly. Frowning, she gripped the file in her hand, hurrying to catch up to him. "House!"

He stopped, waiting for her to catch up – but she knew he would have run if he could have gotten away with it. She joined him, and they moved forward as she looked up at him. "Your patient _seems_ to be doing better." She arched a brow at him, but he just kept looking forward.

"He's healthy so all is forgiven. Now I'm feeling nauseous." He glanced over his shoulder at her as he spoke and she flipped through Carnell's chart in disbelief.

"He is _not_ healthy! Nausea and diarrhea were not his only symptoms." She glanced across at him, but he avoided her eyes as he strode quickly down the hall.

"Shocks have also decreased." He was trying to get rid of her she knew – but this was work and she was involved. He could avoid her as much as he wanted on his personal time – not hers.

"But not disappeared." She shot back, keeping pace with him easily.

"And he's out of the diaper, which is good news for everyone." He was deflecting again and she wanted to smack him.

"What about his low white count?" They were rounding the corner to his office now and he seemed to speed up, like he could actually out run her.

"The little buggers need time to grow." He entered the board room and she followed him into his office. "Don't worry, our wrestling Rastafarian will be back on his feet and sneaking around behind Pap's back in no time." She frowned, wondering at his issues with this kid, when the office phone started ringing. He picked it up quickly. "Yeah?" She glared at his lack of phone etiquette, but didn't speak, crossing her arms and listening instead.

"Check it again." He waited for a response and she watched intently. 'I'll be right there." He hung up quickly, moving past her to the door of his office.

"What happened?" She spoke quickly and he glanced over his shoulder at her as he walked.

"Apparently I can save money by switching to another long distance carrier." He was out the door and she followed more slowly this time.

"I was right wasn't I?" She asked before he could disappear and he glanced back at her wryly.

"Oh yeah, it's always about _you_, isn't it?" He was joking of course. She _thought_ he was, but some long dead instinct warned her to let him go this time. She watched him turn the corner, wondering what in the hell had happened between last week and now. She had thought- they were getting closer. She had thought he had appreciated... after that phone call she had thought they were moving in the same direction. On the same page for the first time in years. Now she watched the traffic move through the hallway, wondering if they were even reading the same book.

* * *

Wilson was waiting when she entered her office, sitting nervously on the edge of her desk. She smiled fleetingly at him, walking behind her desk and sitting down. "Dr. Wilson, what can I do for you?" 

"I, uh – Cameron is planning a dinner." He blurted out finally and she arched a brow at him.

"And? I don't usually socialize with Dr. Cameron. High school was a while ago for me." She muttered under her breath and he glanced at her quickly.

"House's parents are in town. The dinner is for them. You're invited." She blinked at him in silence for a moment. Did Cameron even know what in the hell she was doing? Did Wilson, for that matter? House avoided his parents. Always had, as long as she could remember.

"Are you _stupid_, Wilson?" She spoke seriously and he laughed nervously, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.

"I- I don't know. I just – I need for him to grow up. Stop avoiding things-"

"That isn't about his parents- it's about _your_ relationship with him. Do you think going about it this way is doing him any favors?" She knew this would end badly. Wilson nodded uncertainly and she bit back a sigh. She had thought he knew House better than this – but it was his mistake to make. "No. Don't think I can make it." She wouldn't help him, help them do this. Since when did Wilson and Cameron discuss these things anyway?

"Come on Cuddy. If it's just Cameron and I – it'll look like-"

"You planned it behind his back? You did!" She stared at him in frustration as he stared at her pleadingly. She sighed and shook her head. "I'm not one of your wives Wilson, you can't guilt me into this." He sighed, glancing away before standing up slowly.

"Fine." He sounded amazingly like a petulant child and she bit her lip to stop her smile. After he left, she sat back, her mind wandering. Maybe this was why... a part of her had wanted to accept Wilson's invitation. Out of spite, to watch him squirm. She had pushed the petty feeling aside though, opting not to let her own personal issues with House color her judgment. Sighing, she pushed the thoughts aside and pulled the pile of files on her desk closer. She hoped Wilson knew what he was doing.

* * *

She was coming back from clinic when she saw him, waiting in her inner office. It wasn't like him to wait. Ever. So she knew something was up. She glanced over at him as she entered the office, looking away with a smile. Opening her door, she didn't glance back to see if her was following. She knew he was. "What do you want?" 

"To apologize." Her grin widened at that and she headed for her desk. She began to take off her lab coat with a stifled laugh. "My attention to the clinic has been somewhat lax of late and I want to make amends." He moved closer and she just barely was able to not laugh outright in his face. "How about tomorrow night, I take the night shift?" She smiled up at him as he spoke. Dinners needed to be avoided.

"The clinic's closed at night." She sifted through files as she spoke and avoided looking up at him.

"Yeah, but I'm sure there's plenty of things to be done, there's charts to be reviewed, supplies inventoried-"

"Dinners avoided?" She smiled across at him and he looked at her in disappointment.

"You're going too?" He sounded so sure of the fact that she bristled slightly. Of course he would assume she would want to go – she grabbed a file and sat down quickly.

"I love their cob salad." She didn't even know which restaurant they were going to, but let him think what he wanted. He'd find out soon enough how wrong he was about her.

He sighed heavily and looked across at her. "Give me a reason to get out of this and I'll tell you who started the rumor about you being a transsexual." She looked up in shock for a moment before glaring at him pointedly.

"There is no such rumor." She ground out, feeling her irritation with him rise exponentially by the second.

"There will be, unless you get me out of this dinner." He spoke seriously and she sighed in anger, leaning forward across her desk.

"No one's making you do this, House." She bit out tersely. "Just do what everyone else does, lie to them." He was a master at it, after all. He lied to patients on a regular basis.

"You lie to your mother?" He asked in disbelief and she rolled her eyes.

"Only since I was twelve!" It was probably earlier, she thought. She and her mother had never gotten along. Her mother had ideas for her Lisa, ones that didn't include college. Girls didn't need to be smart, they needed to be pretty.

"My Mom's a human polygraph." He sighed as he spoke, and she stood behind her desk. He turned toward the door reluctantly. "My dad should be taking her to Vegas, not the Louvre."

She followed him to the door. "Trust me, your Mom would much rather think you have a business meeting than you hate her." He paused at the door, looking at her intently for a moment.

"I don't hate her." He spoke softly and she paused, her steps faltering a little. "I hate him." He sounded sad and she stared at him thoughtfully as he left her office, a frown on her face. She felt an odd pang in her chest as she watched him leave, and she shook her head silently. She couldn't afford to let him get closer. She already had allowed him too much, and he had repaid her by pulling away. She couldn't be the only one in this.

* * *

She was late the next morning, something that almost never happened. She had worked late last night, which was usual – but instead of being exhausted when she arrived home, she had lain awake in bed, worried about House. It was like no matter where she went – she couldn't escape him. 

Half of her time here last night had been spent on her computer as she stared at a dating website apprehensively. She needed something more than work – that much was obvious. A week or two ago she had thought that maybe she could find that something in House. But it was looking less and less likely as the days went by. She couldn't quite bring herself to actually submit a profile to the site though. Instead she had stared blankly at the screen wondering when the hell she had become that person? The one who needed help just to meet a guy, the one with no time to go out into the real world and find someone. She had finally closed the site without joining, plodding her way through the remaining paperwork with a sigh.

She hadn't set her alarm, and even though she had only over slept fifteen minutes, it was enough to make her feel like she was never going to catch up. After dropping her things off at her office, she ran out to the lobby to grab a paper – she might be able to read it over lunch – but by that time they'd all be gone. She was paying when Cameron strode up to her purposefully.

"Where's Stacy?" Cameron spoke swiftly and she frowned at her, taking her paper and heading back to her office.

"Uh, speaking at a conference in Baltimore – why what do you need?" She asked in confusion, wondering if this had anything to do with dinner. Lord if she was inviting Stacy-

"Can I subpoena a patient? House wants me to lie to the kid to get him here." Cameron sounded scandalized by the very thought and she had to bite back a smile.

"Well then you'll be the one getting a subpoena." She spoke quickly and Cameron listened intently.

"Well we do need him to diagnose his friend-" Cameron rushed to defend House and she wondered why exactly Cameron had come to her if she agreed with House.

"Take the test to the kid." She responded matter of factly, entering the clinic with Cameron trailing behind her.

"There is no test. House just wants to look at it."

She frowned listening to her, wondering if any of this made sense in Cameron's head, or if she just assumed she would understand. "Then – take House to 'it'." Cameron laughed slightly at the suggestion.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen." She paused by the door to her office, looking at Cameron for a moment. She smiled slightly at the younger woman as an idea entered her head.

"Tell House his parents called. Said they were coming in early. He'll go anywhere just to avoid them." She opened the door and Cameron held it there.

"So it's okay to lie to House but not to a patient?" She asked, hanging in the doorway.

"Yup." She smiled, not bothering to see Cameron's reaction before entering her office quickly, the door swinging shut behind her.

* * *

She had heard – after she let them know about the kid coming into Emerg – that House had once again pulled a diagnosis out of thin air seemingly, and saved both kids lives. She hadn't been shocked, but she had felt a strange sort of disconnect from the whole thing. Gone was her usual euphoria at this type of news – normally she felt at least a small part of the process. She had been absolutely superfluous this time around. He hadn't needed her for anything – and it left a strange sense of disquiet within her. It didn't help that the same disquiet seemed to be within him too. 

He came to her office late that night, when the lights were low and the halls outside were in the middle of the midnight hush. He didn't throw open the door, he entered silently, not even looking at her before he sat on the sofa in her office, sinking down with a tired sigh.

"They're gone." He sounded relieved as he said it, but there was a tired quality to his voice that she recognized. She stared at him for a beat before rising to join him on the sofa. She recognized that look on his face – she had seen it on her own often enough. She didn't speak as she sat beside him, but her presence seemed to be enough. "We ate here. Sorry you missed the cob salad." His voice was soft and he glanced at her with a tiny smile. "Why did you let me think you were going?"

"I was annoyed." She spoke softly and he nodded in understanding. "Why are you still here?"

"I was - " He paused for a moment before shrugging. "Waiting." He didn't say what for and she didn't ask, knowing that there probably wasn't an easy answer. He glanced at her, staring silently before leaning toward her. "Paperwork?"

"No, not really. Just avoiding going home." She laughed slightly at that and shook her head. "Do you ever feel.." She trailed off and he turned to her with a serious expression.

"Feel what?" He was regarding her seriously and she shook her head slightly, wondering at his contemplative mood.

"I just feel like... lately – I don't know. Something is missing. All I have is work. There should be more." Her voice was a whisper in the room and he leaned closer to hear her. "I'm not even that good at what I do- and lately all I see is this giant hole in my life. It should be filled, with friends, family, a relationship – hell a _dog_-"

"Cuddy.." He was coddling her name again, drawing it out and speaking it in gentle tones that never seemed to quite make it into his actions. "You have-"

"I don't. I don't have friends, don't say I do. I have a job. That I do all day – all night-"

"Dogs are a pain in the ass anyway. So are friends, and family – well-" He laughed bitterly and she nodded in understanding. Family was best avoided. When you grow up in spite of your family instead of because of them – they were best as an abstract idea.

"I spent my whole life trying to never be what my mother wanted only to realize that what she wanted for me wasn't so awful. I hate irony." His hand was resting on the small of her back and she wondered when it had gotten there. It was warm – heat radiating through his fingers, through the thin material of her sweater and deep into her skin. "It's too late now." She smiled softly, wondering why she was telling him all of this – but as usual, he seemed to be the only one she _could _tell.

He nodded in silent agreement, not speaking but the silence was a comfortable one. Finally his hand lifted and she blinked in the dim light of the room. "Cuddy – go home. Get some sleep." She nodded, understanding that their.. whatever it was – was over and he couldn't handle much more. Truthfully, neither could she, not without laying herself open in ways she wasn't ready to. So she nodded, and even walked to her desk, pretending like she was gathering up her files. He stood watching her from the other side, as she nodded and waved him along.

"Go. I'll be done in a few minutes." He nodded and she could tell he wasn't buying it for a minute – but if he called her on it things could get out of hand. So he walked to the door, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and opening the door silently. "House-" He paused looking back at her, and she wanted to say thank you, to apologize for everything. She wanted to tell him it would be alright – but she wasn't sure if it would. "You still owe me four clinic hours this week. I'll see you there tomorrow."

He smiled, because there was some comfort in the familiarity of their routine, and he shrugged as he walked out the door, shutting it behind him with a snap. Only when he was out of sight did she sink down into her desk chair, wondering what in the hell she could do to change anything. In her life – between them – maybe the solutions were one and the same. She just wasn't sure for the first time in her life.


	4. Plot Twist

A/N: Even though it's my birthday, you all get presents. Reviews are a nice thank you - just saying. Some diolog borrowed from Spin - but some things are obviously altered as well. Enjoy!

* * *

Cases, like most things in life, seemed to come in threes. She clutched the file tightly, her hands attempting to wrinkle the manila, and leave an impression on it. Almost three cases with no sign of Stacy. _Almost. _She sighed as she stood by the wall, watching Stacy smacking papers on to House's desk. She hated and loved her glass walls, she couldn't decide which it was today. The wall was cool at her back and she pushed off of it with a deep breath, her eyes meeting his before she even entered the office.

Pushing the door open, she could hear him mocking Stacy. "Joke killer." He looked up when she entered, and she could tell he was genuinely happy to see her. She could only assume it was due to her interrupting Stacy's tirade about whatever she had invented as an excuse to see him.

"House, got a patient." She spoke quickly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of irrational anger that was rising within her. What did she even have to be angry about? _Stacy's married._ But not to her – so what business was it of hers if Stacy spent hours planning ways and means to get alone in rooms with Greg House? None.

"Sorry, can't play anymore. My Mom's calling me." His voice didn't sound sorry at all as he spoke to Stacy and exited the room as quickly as possible. She exited with him, not even looking at Stacy as she did so. As they left he leered down at her. "Kind of gives Oedipus a run for his money, huh? Oh , you _actually_ have a case?" He sounded surprised and she rolled her eyes and opened the folder.

"We just admitted Jeff Forrester – professional cyclist-"

"You have got to fire Stacy." His tone had a bit of pleading to it and she wanted to stop, glare at him and demand any good reason when _he_ was the one who had okayed her being hired in the first place. Instead she ignored him, because when it came to dealing with House – it was best to ignore your instincts.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." She spoke seriously, and if a tiny part of her wished she could – she didn't let him or anyone else know it. "He went into respiratory arrest at 30 miles an hour-"

"She's piling me up with pointless paperwork!" He was suspiciously close to whining as they approached the elevator bank. She jabbed the button more viciously than she should have and wondered why in the hell he was bothering her with his Stacy issues.

"Really, I didn't know you were behind on your pointless paperwork-"

"I'm not. You chained me to your desk and forced me to finish it, remember?" She glared at him and laughed under her breath.

"Sure. If by 'chained you to my desk' you mean 'gave you a pen to sign your name'. Stop confusing your sexual fantasies with real life House." She jabbed the button again, even though it was lit. "His O2 sats are-"

"She's just using it as an excuse. God, she already has a cripple of her own, she's going to stalk me and make it two for two?" She took a deep breath, wanting to jab him in the eye but that was bound to lead to all kinds of ugly things. She wasn't a violent person. _Normally._ She decided to ignore him again and glared up at the elevator display as if her stare alone would make it move faster. It worked on most her employees, why not the elevator?

"ER checked for lung infiltrates, nothing there-" He finally looked down at her, paying attention to what she had actually called him out of the meeting for.

"Professional athlete Cuddy! It's like watching an old movie at 2 am, re living all the classic moments. The part where he denies it's drugs, the part where the good guys ride in, tests blazing that prove it is drugs." He circled around her as he spoke, his voice rising as he got into his metaphor. She wondered really, how ugly it could get if she actually hit him. Instead she pressed the elevator button again, this time calmly – as if it would arrive faster due to her control and courtesy. "Oscar clip, he can't imagine how they got into his body! So familiar, so comforting." He glanced back down the hall to his office once he was finished. "She can't handle working with me."

"Yeah, that's going around these days." She spoke in a bitter tone just as the elevator doors dinged behind her, arriving like the second coming of Christ.

"Anyway – thanks for getting me out of that meeting." He turned away and she stared for a moment, dumbfounded and listening as the elevator doors slid shut. She stuck a hand out at the last second, activating the sensor.

"He's not denying the drugs." She spoke a little louder and he paused and stared at her in curiosity. Stepping into the elevator she glanced over at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm thinking he's _actually_ sick." She entered the elevator, and waited, watching the doors slid shut again. Again, at the last second, the end of his cane stopped their progress, and she wondered if this abuse was why they didn't come quickly in the first place. They probably traveled three times slower when it was his floor. Which kind of sucked for all of Wilson's cancer patients.

He stepped onto the elevator, hitting the door close button with the tip of his cane. The elevator ascended and he glanced down at her. "He's lying about the type of drugs then." She smiled, but didn't look up at him, keeping her eyes focused on the door. "I'd bet money on it."

"You never bet money on anything – you're too cheap." The doors slid open as if agreeing with her statement and she stepped out ahead of him, not waiting for him to catch up. He'd probably complain loudly about this, if he didn't enjoy the view so much. Entering the patients room, she pinned a less forceful smile on, nodding to both Jeff and his manager. "Jeff Forrester this is Dr-"

"I'm a doctor, you're a sick person." He glanced at Jeff's manager with little interest. "And you are a loved one." She shook her head in response.

"Actually, manager. We've been together for seven years." She held out her hand, which he pointedly ignored, as usual.

"So what's the drug du jour on the bike circuit these days? Still Erythropoietin? Or are you guys just chugging battery acid?" He glanced around the room as he spoke, as if his question and the tone it was delivered in wasn't enough to indicate his lack of interest.

"There's no way I'd touch Epo. Too many guys stroking out and dying." Jeff responded slowly, struggling to breath as he did so. House just looked over at her smugly.

"_Damn_! Ten bucks for the tickets – six for the popcorn." He glanced back at Jeff who met his stare seriously.

"I do straight blood doping."

"Plot twist!" She spoke aside to House gleefully, ignoring his glare.

"That's a very daring confession." He looked almost impressed as he spoke to Jeff and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He couldn't respect a fellow doctor who saved lives, but he was perfectly fine with someone admitting they were on drugs they didn't need.

"We've got confidentiality, right?" Jeff's manager spoke quickly and House shrugged.

"Assuming I'm more ethical than your client." She wanted to outright laugh at that statement, but she managed to stay silent beside him, only staring at him incredulously for a moment. "So injecting yourself with donor red blood cells for fun and profit, any other tricks up your sleeves?"

"Well nothing much recently. I'm in town for a charity ride, so it didn't matter if I won – the kids just needed to see me." Jeff answered slowly and House walked away as he listened.

"If you go slower they see you longer." He spoke over his shoulder before opening a cupboard door and taking out a water cup. "So let's say our health could be affected by things we did _before_ last Friday." He moved back toward the bed, waiting for Jeff's answer.

"Well – I usually sleep in a hyperbaric chamber. I've been pumping up electrolytes with an IV drip and herbal supplements, amphetamines and diuretics." Jeff spoke matter of factly and House exchanged a look with her for a moment before pouring himself some water.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." House spoke in a sarcastic tone, looking at Jeff. "But why would you be _sick_?"

"I know that doping has risks, I know that it's outside the rules-" Jeff was speaking seriously and she had to bite her lip forcefully. He was killing himself slowly, less painfully. She didn't allow her censure to show on her face however, she just listened intently. "- but I do what I have to to kick ass at my job. Don't you?" House just shrugged before taking his Vicodin in a dramatic manner, followed by some water.

"Dr. House is a firm believer in good old fashioned hard work." She somehow managed to not choke on the words and the look House gave her afterward was almost laughable. Jeff and his manager just stared at them silently until House turned and walked out without another word.

"Is he always-" She nodded in response, before smiling apologetically as she rushed out of the door after him. She didn't need to run however, since he was leaning against the wall just outside. She just halted untidily and glared at him.

"A million reasons he _could_ be sick, but only one symptom that doesn't fit any of them." He stood, and started back down the hall with her following.

"So you're taking the case, then?" She almost ran into him when he halted suddenly and turned around, looking down at her thoughtfully.

"My credentials are good right?" His abrupt change of subject should have surprised her, but it was him, so it didn't.

"They renewed last week. I sent you a memo and everything." She responded in irritation. If the man would just check his own mail...

"Haven't gotten to it yet. Did you put it in my file?" He hadn't stepped away, and was standing over her, almost leaning closer as he spoke. She wanted to step away – but that wasn't how it worked with them. Stepping back was tantamount to admitting defeat.

"Haven't gotten to it yet." She parroted his own words back at him, smiling slightly as he glared at her.

"Aren't you supposed to be on top of this, woman? It's your job for God's sake! It would have saved me-"

"Like she wouldn't have invented something else. If you don't want her around, do something about it." She ground out, before glaring up at him. "I want daily updates." She shoved the file into his chest before turning on her heel and striding away quickly. He and Stacy shouldn't be bugging her like this. She shouldn't have cared. Shouldn't even be affected by it. She was halfway down the second flight of stairs before she could admit to herself that it didn't seem to matter. Hiring Stacy had been a mistake – it just remained to be seen how big of one it was.

* * *

He actually showed up at the end of the day and she looked up in shock. He didn't say anything, just sat on the sofa next to her as she continued to sign the forms in front of her. "I know why I'm still here – why are you?"

"Patient had issues during the LP. Drooling, and went into respiratory arrest. Again." His voice was tired and she glanced at him with sympathy – but it was a fleeting glance because she knew if he caught it, he would be irritated.

"I thought you-"

"Yeah so did I." He ran a hand over his face before looking across at her quietly. "I'm thinking Paraneoplastic syndrome." His voice was serious and she stared at him thoughtfully.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was equally quiet in the late night hush. "It couldn't be anything-"

"Have you got any bright ideas?" He didn't bother waiting for a response to what they both knew was a rhetorical question. "I know you've seen his results."

"Chase could have-"

"I know!" He wasn't shouting but his voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of her office and he sighed quickly. "I know." He spoke more softly this time and she shifted closer to him, leaning over and putting the files from her lap back on the coffee table. "We're checking tomorrow. First thing. But I had to send them home- I know Momma got a big check and all-"

"It's fine." She cut across him quietly, guilt rising up in her for even making them stay late in the first place. She shouldn't have been influenced by the check- but it had been a lot of money. "It's fine. She wanted an LP for the check – she got it. House-"

"I went to Mark's therapy group today." He spoke quickly, cutting her off and she stared at him in disbelief.

"You know when I said do something about it – I didn't mean piss her off. I meant don't give her a reason to see you-"

"I don't even know why I was there. I saw him at lunch and he said- I don't know Cuddy." He sounded genuinely confused by his own actions and she remained silent for a moment, just watching him.

"It's not difficult House. You either want her back or you don't." She somehow just barely managed to keep her voice light enough to avoid scrutiny. She was amazed at her own ability, actually, because the question was far from a light one in her mind and she wanted to shake him, scream at him to get over it and use common sense.

"I- I don't want her back." He spoke slowly – his voice strained and she knew he was uncomfortable discussing it. It made her wonder why he was here – discussing it with her when she was sure he could have talked to Wilson. "I don't. Wilson doesn't believe me." He answered her thoughts and looked at her silently. She didn't speak, she simply sat beside him in silence. He didn't speak again either, he seemed to find comfort in the words they left unsaid. She didn't offer platitudes because she knew he'd hate them. She didn't say she believed him, because he knew already. Instead she sat quietly for a moment, the only sounds in her office coming from the muted traffic far outside her window.

"Are you going home?" He nodded and she stood with him, pushing the files on her table into an untidy heap before picking them up and shoving them in her briefcase. She could finish them at home. She pulled the strap over her shoulder and grabbed her coat from the rack by the door. He stood by it, waiting and she smiled at how often they seemed to leave together. And then they wondered at the rumors.

He walked beside her to the doors, still silent as he followed her to her car, even though it was to the left and his was to the right. Hers was farther too – but she didn't mention any of this or even call attention to it. When she approached her car his hand on her sleeve caused her to stop, staring up at him in the bad lighting of the parking lot. He stared at her for a moment, as if unsure what to say before he shook his head slightly and let go of her arm. "I'll let you know what happens with Forrester tomorrow. Assuming you're not watching over my shoulder." His smile at the last part was the only thing that took any sting out of his words. She nodded, before slipping into her car quietly and watching through her passenger side window as he moved away toward his own car. Sighing she turned the keys in the ignition as he disappeared into the dark.

* * *

She was barely dragging herself around the next day – the three cups of coffee she had had before driving in to work hadn't helped and as she stood in front of her closet, nothing seemed to appeal to her but black. The two cups of coffee she had nursed at work still weren't helping – although she doubted even the best of moods would have made her able to handle this.

"You have to do something about House!" Stacy was pacing in her office, her face pinched with anger and her skin was paler than usual. She looked like Cuddy felt today – and that wasn't saying anything nice. She just wanted her to stop pacing, stop yelling at her about House and stop being in her office. None of this passed her lips however, she simply arched a brow and glared at Stacy with a fierceness she usually reserved solely for House.

"Oh would you grow up! What did you expect when you came here? House is an ass. And you don't help by inventing reasons to see him-"

"His credentials were-"

"I told you _two_ weeks ago I sent that paperwork off!" Her irritation was seeping through, making her voice rough and angry. She paused for a moment before breathing deeply and counting to ten. "Yes it was stupid of him to go to Mark's therapy. It was stupid of you to actually bring Mark here yesterday at lunch. Don't play stupid Stacy – it doesn't suit you." Stacy had the decency to color slightly at her words, opening her mouth to protest. She held up a hand to silence her before she began. "If you two cannot work together – do the math. He's been here for eight years and is world renowned- yes he's a pain in the ass, yes he's more trouble than you – but he's also worth more. Do not force me into a decision on this. Suck it up and work together or suck it up and push all his stuff off on one of the other lawyers." Her voice was sharper than intended but she didn't much care at this point.

"Lisa-" Stacy protested slightly, looking like a child who had run to the teacher and gotten punished for it instead.

"No." She cut her off in a tired voice. She was tired. Tired of grappling with her life – or lack thereof. Tired of feeling like she was always just two steps behind where she should be – with everything she wanted just out of reach. She was tired of being content, or fine. She wanted to be happy. She wanted a good day – just one good day where nobody yelled or sued or had to be yelled at. She wanted... "Just- go do your job. And let me do mine. And let him do his."

"Little hard when his patient is threatening to sue." Stacy folded her arms huffily and glared at her ineffectively. "There was a leak to the press- he's not happy and he's-"

"And you're just telling me this _now_? After complaining about what he did to _your_ husband yesterday which has no bearing on _my_ life whatsoever - the hospital getting sued comes after that?" Her phone rang then and she picked it up angrily, practically snapping her name down the line. "No we do not have a comment." She paused, listening to the reporter on the other end impatiently. "No that diagnosis has _not_ been confirmed." She hung up – her anger rising as she stared at the offensive instrument. She stood up quickly, walking past Stacy and out into the hall. Stacy trailed behind her reluctantly but she ignored her, instead stepping into the clinic quickly. "Brenda!" The nurse turned quickly, taking one look at her face before speaking.

"Fourth floor Path lab." She spoke quickly and Cuddy nodded her thanks before barreling towards the doors. Stacy was jogging slightly behind her and she didn't even slow down for her as she strode toward the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. When they arrived at the fourth floor, Stacy was somewhat out of breath and flustered. Cuddy however, continued walking on as if she had arrived in the elevator. When they entered the room, she saw him glance from herself to Stacy quickly, but he didn't speak, he simply waited for her to address him. Her steps slowed and a wave of fatigue washed over her. The anger was gone – it hadn't really been for him in the first place anyway.

"You've got a leak. The press is all over the Jeff Forrester story-"

"On the off chance one of you was stupid enough to call from your own office I'm pulling your phone records, including your cell phones." Stacy cut across her and she glared at her silently. At what point had that been cleared with her?

"I assume if I point out that you have no right to do that, you'll interpret that as a sign of guilt?" Foreman spoke calmly but she could tell it was a forced calm.

"Wilson's chatty. Plus he has two ex-wives to support, you want me to tell him he's fired?" House shot back at Stacy before she could respond. She stood there, listening as Stacy decreed that she would sit in on House's diagnosis, wondering when the hell this situation had spun out of her control? House had turned to her now, his anger evident.

"How am I supposed to practice medicine with a lawyer sitting on my shoulder?" She blinked, as everyone looked at her in silence.

"You're not." Stacy's head turned toward her with approval in her eyes, while House stood before her with shock in his.

"You're pulling me-"

"No." She spoke quickly and forcefully, spitting it out like acid. "She's not sitting in." She turned to glare at Stacy who stood there dumbfounded. "We discussed this." She stressed each word and Stacy blinked as though slapped. "Don't push." She turned back to the doctor's in the room. "Who?"

"Cameron." Wilson spoke softly from her right and Cameron stiffened with offense.

"It wasn't me." Cameron responded quickly. Wilson stared at her for a moment, apparently having a silent discussion.

"It wasn't any of you." She spoke with a conviction she wasn't entirely sure of, constantly aware of Stacy's eyes lancing her from behind. "Leaking the cancer is pointless-"

"He doesn't have cancer." House spoke softly and she stopped in surprise. "Why would someone leak cancer? How does that make him look bad enough that he's willing to sue?" He paused for a moment and stared at her thoughtfully. "He's on Epo." He strode quickly out of the room, not bothering to explain anything. Chase and Foreman exchanged shrugs before turning back to the x-rays and Cameron headed over to Wilson. She turned in time to see Stacy slipping out the door, but she followed quickly.

"I was serious." She spoke harshly, pulling Stacy aside and hissing in her face. "You didn't clear _any_ of that with me!" She waved an arm at the Lab and glared. "I don't like not being informed – _all_ of my employees know that. You'd better abide by it Stacy. I only give warnings once." She left her standing there, her words ringing through the air as she stalked away toward the stairwell.

* * *

She left early – possibly the first time in months, but as she took off her jacket at home and sank into her couch with a bottle of water she couldn't bring herself to care. It was still light out – her windows were open and she was at home. She smiled faintly, before putting her feet up on the coffee table. Her briefcase dug into her side uncomfortably but she was too content to move it. She was there for a few minutes when a knock sounded on her door. She didn't move, except to pull her cell phone out and dial a familiar number. "You know where the key is. I'm not getting up." She hung it up, glancing down at it for a moment before turning the power off and tossing it onto the chair across from her.

He entered the room a moment later. She sank lower and watched him lingering in the doorway. "Danger zone." He spoke briefly and she rolled her eyes.

"Too tired to jump you today – sorry. Say whatever it is you're here to say and go please." Her feet pointed, and she felt the flex all the way up her calf muscles. He made his way slowly into the room and sat cautiously on the edge of her sofa.

"I apologized to her." She looked up at his words and sighed softly.

"And?"

"She was pissed anyway. Something about you and warnings- I'm not quite sure. Did you threaten to fire her?" He glanced over at her, his expression clearly displaying that there was no way this could be true.

"Yes. And it's none of your business and nothing to do with you." He looked at her in disbelief and she rolled her eyes. "Just.. let it go. I don't want to do this right now." His feet joined hers and she wanted to be upset about his sneakers on her table but she didn't really care.

"Okay." He spoke simply, and she glanced at him suspiciously. "So – I'm betting you have popcorn, and I brought Raging Bull. None of those great scenes I mentioned yesterday, but enough plot twists to keep even _your_ mind occupied." She wanted to smile, but couldn't quite pull it out. How did he always know? And how did she get him to stop? "Come on Cuddy. Time to stop thinking and just relax. I'll even let you do paperwork later if you have two hours of non work related thoughts."

"You'll _let_ me?" She arched a brow and almost laughed as she spoke and he reached across her, pulling her briefcase away from her side and depositing it on his.

"Yeah – even the submissive can switch it up and dominant every now and then. Can't let things get boring, now can we?" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Can I use the whips?"

"Sure. They're in my closet – but don't use the paddle – that one is personal." She deadpanned and was rewarded by his laughter. She wondered what in the hell they were doing... the last few weeks had been highs and lows- but she still welcomed his company – always had. That said something- right?

"Hey. No deep thoughts. I'm serious." He pulled out a DVD from his pocket, sliding it on the table. "Are you going to make popcorn?" He spoke slowly and she laughed out loud, sinking further down.

"Nope. I'll tell you a little secret about dominance." She leaned across the space with a smile and he leaned down to meet her halfway. "It's a lot of _work_."


	5. Kids

A/N: Oh my God. So I hit my first almost absolutely Cuddy-less episode, and I'm thinking, 'crap! This is going to be hard!' Because I wanted to include a lot of things from this episode ( _Hunting_ for those of you keeping track ) but none of the Stacy/House stuff, which was basically half of the show. Once I got going though, I couldn't seem to stop and now the Cuddy-less episode is longer than any of my previous chapters. Ha! Review, because you love me. Right? Oh and my apologies to any of you who thought I'd be all 'Grr! Stacy! Killkill!' in this fic. I actually liked Stacy - away from house, lol - and I wnated her to be the way I thought she could have been in this fic.

* * *

"Got an ambulance coming in – it was House's address." Brenda's voice was sympathetic as she poked her head around the door and Cuddy looked up, frozen for a moment. Five million bad things were going through her head, and she struggled to even grasp one of them. _IsitHouseitcouldbesomeoneinhis buildingcalmdownohGodwhatifitisHousehisleghecouldhavehurthimselfwhatinthehellamIgoingto-_

_breathe Lisa. _Her heart seemed to jump into action then, making up for the time it seemed to stop and she could hear it pounding in her ears as she skidded into the ER. _Did I just run? _She was out of breath so the obvious answer was yes, but why didn't she remember it happening?

A patient was rushed in, flying past her in a blur and she had to blink three times before she realized it was _the_ patient. And it was not House. It was amazing just how quickly panic could turn into to anger, she didn't think it took more than five seconds after House and Wilson burst through the doors.

"You could have killed him!" Wilson was all outrage and House was glaring at him as they pushed past the swinging doors that lead to the crisis bay of the emergency department.

"I didn't even _touch _him! And how is it my fault-"

"If you just agreed to treat the guy he wouldn't have been out there, stalking you and accusing us of- of- being _like that_!" Wilson whispered the last part as House grinned for a brief moment. His grin slid off his face however when he stopped short at the sight of her, standing just beyond the doorway. She was sure that the anger she was feeling was practically glowing around her, lighting her up. Her breaths were coming in short little bursts and she couldn't even find the words she wanted to yell at him.

"You. Office. _Now!_" It was all she could manage through the haze and he frowned at her quickly. She turned toward the doors at the end of the hall.

"Jeez Cuddy, do you have to be so public about the booty calls. I mean I do have a patient in there-" She whirled around again and it was only by the very edge of her control that she managed not to hit him. She did however, grab the sleeve of his coat, and haul him forward with her. Not a single nurse or doctor looked at them and she marched him out of the ER – not even Wilson was willing to rescue him from this particular situation.

When she finally shoved him through her door, he was rubbing his arm and looking at her like a puppy she just kicked. _Good. I hope it hurt._ She pinned him with a glare and he held up his hands in defense. "I swear Cuddy I didn't touch the kid. All I did was let go of my cane – which he was holding – and he fell. _Fell _Cuddy. No lawsuits – no- look I'll even take his case. Then he definitely won't sue and I – Cuddy?" She wasn't responding, wasn't even really listening to him and she sat down on her coffee table, and dropped her head in her hands.

She took one deep breath, and then two. And then she began panicking. How in the hell did she explain a minor meltdown in a way that didn't involve the words you, ambulance and terrified? When she looked up again, he was staring down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. "You _will_ take his case." Whoever he was. "Or I will personally see that you spend the rest of the _month_ doing nothing but clinic duty-"

He seemed to relax slightly at her words, and she congratulated herself on her skills. She had somehow turned lying into a fine art. He knew this – but still hardly ever seemed suspicious of her when she did lie to him. "I already said I would. Do I have to go see legal?" She winced at the word, at how he never referred to Stacy by her name anymore. It was always just legal. She sighed soundlessly and shook her head.

"No. Not if he's not suing. But House- this guy you assaulted-"

"I did _not _assault him!" He protested and she rolled her eyes.

"Really? Cause to a witness it would look like he accused you of being involved with Wilson, you struggled and he fell to the ground. Pity court transcripts don't have visual aids." He winced at her words and she took another deep breath. "Just tread carefully."

"I always do." He held up his cane with a grin and moved toward the door. Once there, he paused with his hand on the knob. "By the way Cuddy, I love this deep breathing Zen chi thing you're doing. The girls are giving a _great_ show." She glared at him, but he was gone before she could even say anything else and she stared at the closed door for a moment before uncurling her white fingers from the edge of the coffee table and letting her shoulders sag in relief.

* * *

"I hate them. They're hairy and disgusting and it was in my _food _cupboard Cuddy. Anyway, Mark has physio and I have to wait for this stupid exterminator guy.." Stacy sighed down the phone line and she could hear the clinking of cutlery in the background. 

"It's fine. There's nothing on the go right now anyway." Cuddy spoke in a distracted tone as she stared out through her window with the phone cradled between her head and shoulder. She had been struggling with Stacy over the past few days – Stacy had been overly courteous and she wasn't sure if she felt bad or was just trying to retain her job. Probably both.

"I hope I don't have to watch him kill it. That would just be gross. They say they're humane but you know what that means. They catch it live and just take it out back for the killin'." She drawled slightly on the last words and Cuddy laughed despite herself.

"That's awful. If they say they're humane you should demand proof. Too many companies claim-"

"Oh here we go again, Lisa on her animals rights soap box again. What am I supposed to do, demand they let me keep it? Give it to a good home? Who in the hell wants a rat? I sure as hell don't. I don't know how you do it Lisa. Don't you ever just really want a burger? Or some great leather shoes?" Stacy's voice was teasing and she laughed out loud at her questions. She had become a vegan at eleven – hiding the fact that she was no longer eating meat from her mother for almost two years before her doctor had expressed his concern at her lack of iron, and outed her in the process.

"If you had been on the school tour I was on, you'd never eat a cow again either." She shuddered at the memory of the meat packing plant they had visited in elementary. "Although the shoe part is really difficult sometimes." Stacy laughed and they both paused awkwardly, their previous friendship hanging in the air like a ghost between them. "Take your time. Whenever you can get in is fine and if anything comes up, I'll send it to your house." She listened patiently to Stacy's thanks before hanging up with a frown. She missed her friend more often than she wished to in the last five years. It only seemed worse now that she was back, and yet not - nothing was the same at all.

* * *

Brenda was at her door again, never a good sign in her opinion. Brenda was her ear to the ground so to speak, and she never usually interrupted her unless it was important. In her experience important usually was synonymous with bad. "House's patient had an issue. Coughing blood. All over Doctor Cameron." 

"The HIV patient?" She asked, praying silently that there was some other patient House had managed to slip by her undetected. _Like that would happen._ Brenda nodded and she cursed inwardly. Shit. Shit. "Did she go see Dr-" Brenda just nodded in response and slipped back through the door. Cuddy glanced at her watch and sighed before standing slowly and exiting the room, not even stopping to take her lab coat with her.

When she found Cameron, she was sitting in the changing rooms with a blank expression on her face. Her shirt still had blood stains on it and she was staring down at her hands. "Dr. Cameron?" She spoke softly, not wanting to startle the girl. They weren't close, per say – but she was still her boss and she found the lost expression on Cameron's face oddly endearing.

"I'm fine." She spoke woodenly and Cuddy shook her head listening to her.

"I know that. I spoke with your doctor. You need to change." She decided the best tactic would be to not coddle Cameron. For all of the girl's own mothering instincts, she was remarkably independent herself. She reached into Cameron's locker, pulling out a pair of light purple scrubs.

When she turned Cameron was staring down at her shirt with horror. "I'm sorry – I didn't-"

"It's fine." She spoke calmly, in what she could only hope was a soothing manner. Cameron looked up at her beseechingly and she was reminded of a small child for a moment and the image shook her to her very core. "Here, change into these-" She pressed the scrubs gently into her hands. Cameron's own hands rose automatically and took the clothes from her. She disappeared into the shower area, and Cuddy patiently waited, sitting on the hard wooden bench.

"I really am fine." Cameron insisted again when she came back, her hair pulled back and now wearing the scrubs. Cuddy nodded in response and Cameron sat down again. "I am. I mean the chances are-"

"They're _chances_." She watched the younger woman carefully as she spoke and resisted the urge to take her hands, or anything else equally asinine. Idly she wondered how House would deal with this – but chances were he'd ignore it. "Are you angry?"

"No! It wasn't his fault-" Cameron's voice shook and she rubbed a hand over the right side of her face carefully. "It would be awful of me to be upset-"

"It would be human of you to be mad Cameron. And it's alright to be human." Her voice was so soft it didn't even echo in the tiled room and Cameron's eyes met hers with an expression of censure in them.

"I- I can't do this right now." Her voice wobbled slightly and Cuddy stared at her thoughtfully. "The patient- House will be doing differential based on the new symptom. I should go." Cuddy nodded, watching as she got up quickly, and her eyes shifted to the door, seeking escape.

"That's fine Dr. Cameron. If you need anything- even just someone to yell at – let me know." The younger woman nodded stiffly before bolting out of the room, leaving Cuddy alone on the bench with a sinking feeling.

* * *

"You take it." Stacy slammed a cage on top of the files she was currently reading and she looked up in shock. There was a rat. On her desk. Sure, it was in a cage and- she frowned as she peered at the rat and it peered back enquiringly – remarkably clean and cute for a rat, it was still a rat. In her hospital. 

"Are you out of your _mind_? This is a hospital-" She started but Stacy waved impatiently.

"No_ this_ is your office. And he was going to kill it. Him. Her. Whatever!" She looked at Cuddy with a pleading gaze. "So I- God I took the cage and yelled at him, and refused to pay and he said he wouldn't take it back. Then I threatened to sue and he laughed – cause I'm a crazy lady and- God do I want a smoke." She moaned, dropping into the chair in front of Cuddy's desk and putting her head in her hands.

"You're _smoking_ again? Stacy!" She admonished and Stacy simply rolled her eyes at her.

"Oh shut up. My husband is- I just need to. It won't kill me."

"Much." She sniped at her former friend and returned her gaze to the rat, who was currently holding a small piece of cheese in his paws. "He can't stay here-"

"Oh come on Lise! You must know _some_ animal group that will take him – and not, you know – send him to the great hereafter. I don't know anyone else and Mark was pissed enough that I took him from the exterminator in the first place..." Stacy's voice trailed off and she stared at her pleadingly. She felt a pang of sympathy and sighed heavily.

"I hate you so much right now. If anyone finds this in here-"

"Just stick him under your desk. It'll only be for another hour anyway- assuming you leave on time." Her glare cut Stacy off and she backpedaled quickly. "And I will owe you _so_ big for this. Thank you so much, Lisa. Seriously." She stood and was backing out slowly as she spoke, clearly realizing escape was the best option right now. She disappeared just as Cuddy opened her mouth to insist she wasn't really taking him – it. Sighing she stared down at the small rat, which blinked up at her and tilted his head.

"I am such a sucker." She wanted to lay her head on the desk, but she settled for moving his cage off to the windowsill behind her. "Be quiet." She whispered to him, wondering what in the hell she was going to do with it.

* * *

She laid back in her chair, scowling at the pile of paper work in front of her. She would kill House. Seriously a Kveim- Siltzbach test?! She knew it was Cameron's idea – and it was wrong, House was humoring her, but she still approved the paperwork anyway. She stood with a sigh – it was three hours after she should have left in the first place and the as yet unnamed rat had been sitting happily in his cage – quiet for the most part as she grumbled and finished the paperwork that had been dropped in her lap fifteen minutes before she should have gone home. 

She exited the room silently, moving through the empty clinic to the front desk where a lone nurse was standing. Handing the file filled with paperwork to her, she smiled tiredly. "Can you see that a copy of this reaches Dr. Cameron?" Her voice was low and the nurse nodded with a smile, taking the file from her. She turned back to her office, time to take herself home – and her newest addition, apparently – she'd have to do some research tonight to see if she could find anyone willing to take him.

She could just set him free she mused as she walked back into her office. She wondered why Stacy hadn't thought of that – possibly she didn't want him to be a street rat – she chuckled at that and then gasped, clutching her chest as House popped up from where he had been leaning down behind her desk. "Dammit House!" She screeched and he shushed her with a wave of his hand.

"Oh please, I didn't scare you that much. What's with the rat?" He had been leaning down by the cage, peering into it and she glared at him.

"The rat is Stacy's. Or mine. She rescued it – and foisted it off on me to find a home for. Why do you care? I just sent up the paperwork for your test-" She rounded the desk as she spoke, glancing down at the cage and then back up at him.

"He's sick." He spoke seriously and she blinked for a moment.

"Of course he is, he has masses in his heart and lungs."

"Not the patient, although he's sick too I suppose. The rat – he's sick." She turned in surprise, staring down at the small animal in concern.

"What? How can you tell?" She looked at the rat, who stared back at her silently.

"Head tilt isn't normal. Probably an infection of the inner ear – maybe the lungs. You should get him on some antibiotics." He spoke in a serious tone as he shook two Vicodin out of his bottle and then swallowed them dry.

"I'm sorry – when did you become a vet?" She spoke dryly and he shrugged.

"Animal, human, aren't we all just mammals?" He leaned over her shoulder and they both stared down into his cage watching him closely. His chest was pressed against her shoulder and she smiled slightly in response. "You could hide it in cheese."

"What?" She frowned and he stared at her with a patient expression.

"The antibiotics. I mean we could try injection, but I have no idea where rat's veins are – and how much would you give him? Best to crush it up and mix it in his food." She almost laughed at the 'we' part but then the rat squeaked pitifully and she frowned. She hoped it wasn't in pain – it wasn't fair to leave him sick... "Oh you're totally going to do it, aren't you? I've got some great blue cheese at my place – we can use that. Come on." He picked up the cage by the handle as if it wasn't even a question and started toward the door. She followed more slowly, locking her office and then stopping at the pharmacy.

As they walked through the car park he glanced over at her with a small smile. "Are you going to keep him?" His tone indicated he didn't think so and she glared at him while unlocking her car. "Well, I mean it's a rat Cuddy. You wouldn't keep a rat." He pointed out practically as she started the car and rolled her eyes.

"Well I've kept _you_ all these years – maybe I can start a collection of vermin." She smiled sweetly and he chuckled as she pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

Two hours and four different types of cheese later, the rat was finally eating the laced food. "Figures it would be the processed crap out of a can that he eats and not the actual good cheese." She muttered as she watched the small animal lick his paws clean before moving over to the tiny water bottle she had picked up when she stopped at the pet store on the way. House had stayed in the car with the rat and she had come out with a larger cage, wood shavings, a water bottle, two different types of food and a small bowl. 

"Hey just because Steve likes the canned cheese doesn't make him any less of a rat. He just has taste is all – I wouldn't eat half of this stuff either." House spoke from his chair beside her and she rolled her eyes.

"It was _your_ stuff." She pointed out. "Why was it there if you don't eat it?"

"Wilson always brings crap over. Says I never have anything good to eat. Please, if pretzels aren't considered good food I don't know what is." He scoffed and she laughed slightly.

"Wait. Steve? No. No!" She protested as he nodded in response. "We cannot name him House. That makes him a pet. He is not a pet." She argued as he looked at her in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, your mouth is saying no but Steve's brand spanking new cage and spinning wheel scream yes. You got him _toys_ Cuddy. He's a pet." She glared at him, but he wasn't watching her, he was watching the rat – Steve – curl up in the cage.

"You named him. That makes him yours." She finally argued and he shook his head.

"You adopted him and fronted the cash. That makes him yours." She just stared at him until he sighed. "Fine. He can be ours. I'll let him stay here – you would probably lose your mind with a rat in your house. Don't worry Steve, It's not that mommy doesn't love you, it's just that she doesn't want you to hear the moans at night when she gets a little alone time with mister vibrat-" She smacked his arm hard and he broke off, grinning.

"Seriously, _Steve_?" She changed the subject quickly but the leer didn't disappear off of his face.

"McQueen. Come on Cuddy - he was trapped by an exterminator. _Wanted: Dead or Alive_, get it?" She laughed dryly and he nodded in response. "So why didn't Stacy just let them kill him? You I'd get – you've always been all save the puppies and kittens and whales, but she never cared about that crap."

She sighed and glanced back into the cage where Steve was sleeping soundly. "It's my fault, she called about being late and I went on about how humane exterminators hardly ever were – she couldn't watch them kill him. So she dropped him on me."

"I hope not literally, that could have been hairy." She bit back a laugh and glared at him again. "Come on, while he's sleeping Mommy and Daddy should have some playtime. You know what they say about kids – just _kills_ the sex life. We should get it in while we can."

"Oh shut up." She frowned over at him, and he smirked back at her. "I should go anyway-"

"But what will I tell Steve when he asks where Mommy went?" He sighed dramatically as she slipped her coat back on with a smile. "These types of things are always hardest on the kids." She didn't give him a response, grabbing her purse and moving toward the door with a shake of her head. "So you'll pick me up tomorrow then? Since, you know – you drove me home."

"Your car and bike are _both_ here House. Wilson drove you in this morning, remember?" She smiled sweetly and he scowled down at her from his position leaning against the door. "Now move." She was surprised when he obliged, but his hand grazing against her ass as she opened the door proved his motives less than pure. She didn't say anything, just smiled to herself and glanced at him over her shoulder before heading out and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Her day had been going halfway good before he had slammed into her office like a schoolboy being sent to the principle. She sighed as he sat down at her table, placing his cane on the table beside him and reaching over to remove an antique toy bird from the shelf. She didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and stared at him with an expectant expression. 

"Two successful surgeries, two lives saved. I'm over my quota. Can I have next week off?" He stared at the bird as he kept flicking it repeatedly and she sighed in irritation, before snatching it from him and putting it back on the bookshelf.

"Two family members assaulted." She spoke dryly and he leaned back petulantly.

"It was self defense!" She glared over at him from before answering.

"You baited him." She walked over to her desk, grabbing the father's file before making her way back to the table. He sighed from his seat.

"You're right – I was asking for it." He spoke dryly. "The low cut blouse -" His eyes lingered on her own chest for a brief second before continuing. "-the do me pumps." She dropped the file on the table in front of him and looked down at him.

"You filled his gut with a parasite, he could sue." She sat down heavily, crossing her legs and glaring at him . "Stacy's on her way down." She had scheduled the meeting in her office for a lot of reasons – she didn't want them alone, she wanted to be able to monitor the situation. She was having trouble finding purely professional reasons for her excuses, however. He sighed more dramatically and sank further down in his chair.

"Seriously? He's not going to sue, I saved his _life_ by hitting him. And he hit me first." He mumbled with a pout and she glared across at him.

"Well, since people generally don't sue on the schoolyard that really won't matter." She pouted back at him mockingly and he glared at her. A knock was heard and the door opened and Stacy walked in nervously.

"You called? I can come back if you're in a meet-"

She waved her in, shaking her head. "No, no. He's part of the problem."

"I resent that." He spoke forcefully from his chair and she shook her head, and waved Stacy into another chair next to hers.

"The truth hurts." She shot back before turning to Stacy. "He goaded the patient's father into hitting him so he could hit him back, thereby releasing parasite's into his system, which caused anaphylactic shock. _Knowingly._" Stacy smothered a smile before looking across at House.

"Well – I assume he's being successfully treated for the parasites?" Cuddy nodded and she continued. "I would recommend apologizing – he probably won't sue since _technically_, you did save his life. Do you ever grow up?"

"Please. It's not like this was plan A. I asked him to let me test him to confirm the diagnosis. He refused." He shrugged, glancing away from her and gazing up at the bookshelves. "May I be excused now Mommy?" He looked across at her and she breathed deeply before answering him.

"House... apologize, _please_?" Her words were surprisingly gentle and he met her eyes for a moment before dropping his own uncomfortably. She already had her answer though – she knew he would do it. Probably in the most obnoxious way possible, but hopefully it would be enough to save them another law suit. Stacy watched the two of them with a frown.

"So the baby is doing just fine – thanks for asking. I brought him in – if you wanna visit him later. His blood came up with nicotine -" he glanced across at Stacy who looked at him with confusion. "Smoking is such a filthy habit." He stood, grabbing his cane and moving quickly to the door. "Aggravated his infection. Come up later." He tossed over his shoulder at her, and nodded to Stacy before he exited the room the same way he had entered it – with the slamming of a door.

"Well – that went.. well I suppose." Stacy sighed from next to her and she nodded absently. "I thought you weren't giving me any of his cases?"

"Half the cases are his. You need to be able to work together." She responded absent mindedly and Stacy nodded before standing.

"Well, thanks for buffering. I just- I _really_ don't want to screw things up with Mark." She spoke in a wistful tone and Cuddy looked up at her, her attention on Stacy fully now. "I know I may have said some.. _things_ or acted- a bit crazy. It's been hard, you know? I'm going through such a tough time with Mark right now, and Greg- well – it's like all you can see are the good times. Even on his worst days Mark is- I just need time. So if you could – keep on buffering – it would be great." She smiled at Cuddy and she nodded mutely. Stacy walked toward the door before turning around suddenly.

"Oh, and Lisa – I just- I missed you, and I really hope all of this... didn't screw up our friendship too." She sounded sincere and Cuddy shook her head.

"No, Stacy. It's fine – your husband almost died. It's tough for anyone to go through-" Stacy smiled thankfully before nodding.

"Thank you. What was that about a baby?" She looked over her shoulder and back at Cuddy who opened her mouth, trying to think of a way to explain.

"Just House.. being.. _House_." She finally brushed the question off lamely, and thankfully Stacy nodded in understanding.

"Thanks again Lisa... for everything." Stacy exited the room quietly, and she sat at her table with her hands folded over her abdomen, staring up at the small wooden bird on her bookshelf and smiling softly. She glanced over at the pile of paperwork on her desk, and decided visiting Steve was going to have to wait at least an hour or two.


	6. Anger

A/N: So I know, I know! But before you chase me with pitchforks and torches - I can explain the wait. First off The Mistake has GOT to be my least favorite episode ever. I struggled with it - until I decided I would just combine it with Deception to make things easier on me. Then I was struggling with how to handle it. I wrote it the first time with House and Cuddy not arguing at all. But upon thinking about some things I wanted to get rid of - and some things I wanted to keep - I decided it was too easy to have them be understanding about the Foreman in charge thing. Also I struggled about adding Cuddy dangling the possibility of Foreman actually taking over the department - it irked me in Deception, and seemed OOC to me, so I did my own twist on it. Regardless, look! Nice looong update for you guys and I have a clearer idea of what I'm doing with the next few episodes - so updates should be quicker next week. Also I had to either post this right now, or I wouldn't be able til until Monday - so if there are any grammar errors, forgive me.

* * *

"She's going to kill me. Well, by me I really mean Chase, but all this 'don't lie Greg' this and 'tell the truth' that. It wasn't even my screw-up!" He burst into her office, unannounced – again and she didn't even glance up from her paperwork. 

"You went into clinic forty minutes ago which means that you still have an hour and twenty minutes left today." Her tone was remarkably unconcerned and bland and he glared at her in response. Not that she could see him doing it, but she could feel his eyes burning into the top of her head.

"Kind of hard when she keeps interrupting my patient exams. Just walks right on in – no respect for doctor/patient confidentiality -"

"House." She sighed heavily, finally looking up from the files she was currently going over. "What do you want me to do? She's trying to represent Chase as best she can. She _can't _– if you two keep insisting on lying to her." She ran a hand over her face tiredly and looked across her desk at him, slumped in the chair in front of her.

"She doesn't really want to know the truth – besides, the truth isn't always entirely.. helpful." he hedged and she frowned at him, wondering what in the hell he had done now.

"What did you do?"

"Chase is being evaluated. Not me, remember? Focus Cuddy." He side stepped her question quickly and she groaned in frustration. "Steve misses you." He stood abruptly and she glanced up at him with a smile.

"Really? _Steve_ misses me, does he?" He nodded, leaning on his cane as he watched her intently.

"Sure – what kid wouldn't miss his Mom? Besides, I need a distraction from the nightmares I'm sure to have about Stacy later. So I'll order pizza – you can swing by around eight." He turned without waiting for an answer and she glared at his retreating back as he beat a hasty exit.

"House!" He turned at the doorway and she rose from her chair, stalking toward him. "I am not having dinner with you again."

"Why? Oh is it because it would be the third date? Don't feel you have to put out Cuddy – no pressure. I have my memories to fuel my fantasies anyway." She glared at him, fighting a grin as he spoke. She often wondered what in the hell was going on with him lately – with them. They had been doing an odd sort of dance, more close contact that usual but she couldn't pin it down to identify it.

"None of those counted as dates-" she began to point out dryly and he leaned over her, shifting slightly closer, and she could span the space between them with a single hand. Eight inches. Too much, and yet not nearly enough.

"Really? Because I seem to remember a good night ki-" She silenced him with a glare and crossed her arms, pulling her upper body away from him slightly.

"I'm not coming." He simply grinned, pulling the door open as he limped past her.

"I'll see you at eight." He threw over his shoulder in a cocky tone and she sighed softly, watching him disappear through her glass doors.

* * *

"You're late." He opened the door with a smug grin and she glared at him, wondering why in the hell she was here in the first place. 

"I am not late-"

"It's eight thirty, I said eight. _Late._" He lifted his arm slightly, allowing her to move under it and past him as she unbelted her coat. The weather was typical for early December – cold and gray and generally miserable. House probably loved it.

"I had to work until eight. So I'm not late you're just too inconsiderate to wait for confirmation." She poked back at him as she draped her coat over his sofa and he watched her with a smile. She didn't even know why she had come. Guilt, she supposed. She didn't want him to waste money on the food- _because yeah, he couldn't possibly eat the rest of it over the next few days. _Her inner voice scoffed bitterly and she rolled her eyes. Fine. She was clearly here because she wanted to be. Which was an idea best left undisturbed anyway.

"Whatever. You just want me- don't both hiding it – I am a master of reading body language." She simply glared at him before giving him the finger, which he began laughing at.

"Food is where?" She was starving, and making her way to the kitchen before he had even spoke the word – her nose leading her. Much later, after two slices of pizza she really shouldn't have had, and an extended visit with Steve which mostly involved House making up ridiculous stories about his antics as she sat by the cage and drank a glass of red wine, she found herself half laying on the sofa, watching the New Yankee Workshop with him. His hand had somehow casually managed to land on her knee, but she hadn't offered much protest, so it had remained there. Two shows in, he had turned his head and begun to watch her instead of the television.

"What?" She asked in irritation as he continued to stare. When he didn't answer her, she turned her head and glared at him. "What?!!"

"Nothing." He turned away for a brief moment before turning back to her and opening his mouth. "What's hotdoctors[dotcom?" She looked at him in shock for a moment, losing all ability to speak as she stared at him, her mouth open.

"You broke into my office! _Again_." He shrugged and watched her unnervingly.

"You left it unlocked. Again."

"Sure, if by unlocked you mean I didn't change the lock you already had a key to. I did however, change my password." She spoke through gritted teeth, wondering why she was so shocked by any of this. Hadn't time taught her well? It's what he did.

"Not to anything difficult like the first puppy you had as a kid that died, or anything else I wouldn't know. Although, come to think of it – wasn't your first dog named Poncho or something equally ridiculous. Why on earth do I _know_ that?" He mused more to himself than her and she poked him in the ribs with a glare.

"He was a chihuahua, and you know because you were there when I found out he died, idiot."

"Yeah but that's no reason for me to actually _retain _the information." He scoffed and pinned her down with his gaze. "And stop avoiding the original question. Are you _online dating_, Cuddy?" She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable under his stare.

"No. I just- thought about it for a half a second. I didn't even sign up. Which means not only did you break into my office, hack into my computer, but you also actually looked up my online history. You take stalking to a whole new level, House." She spoke fiercely giving him her best glare but he seemed unaffected by it, preening instead.

"Why thank you, but flattery will get you nowhere." He looked at her, again serious and it seemed so out of place on him that she wanted to do something insane just to get that pitying look off his face. "Why a dating site? You'll notice how chivalrous I'm being in ignoring the whole hot doctor's bit. Not that you're not hot Cuddy – because _raowr_! - but I can personally _guarantee_ that no actual hot man would sign up for it." She sighed, smiling briefly at his sort of back-handed compliment, before turning to face him.

"It's hard. When in the hell am I supposed to meet a guy? I can barely find time to wash my damn hair everyday." He stared at her for a beat before responding.

"First of all, ew, I really hope that was rhetorical – and secondly you don't need to meet men. The perfect one is right here." He was joking of course, she didn't need to see the look on his face or the sarcasm heavily laced through his tone to know that.

"I'm tired House. I want someone... something to come home to. I'm..."

"Lonely?" His voice was again oddly serious and she shook her head softly.

"No." She paused for a moment, think before continuing on. "Just on my own."

"Cuddy." His voice was soft but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a knock on the door. His hand lifted and she sat up, smoothing her skirt as she swung her legs back down to the floor. He stood with a slight growl, yanking the door open and glaring at Wilson, who didn't look bothered at all by it. He walked past House, speaking over his shoulder.

"I thought I'd swing by see how things were going with Stacy and-" He trailed off upon seeing her sitting on the sofa, in House's living room. "-you're not alone. I thought you'd be alone. Seeing as, you know – no one likes you."

"You like me, Wilson." House grumbled as he moved past him and returned to his spot on the sofa. "No means no Wilson – I am _this_ close to getting a restraining order." When Wilson still didn't move he rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Are you going to sit down or are you protesting the breaking of the no girls allowed rule?" This seemed to shake Wilson out of his stupor and he sat down in the arm chair next to the sofa.

"I thought you'd want company – or a co conspirator – but – House." Wilson seemed to lean past her slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Cuddy's here." She wanted to laugh out loud, but she didn't, just barely. Wilson shot a nervous glance at her as he spoke and now watched her carefully – as if she might attack at any moment.

House drew back with a gasp. "Oh my God! How did she get here?! Oh right with an invitation – those little things _some_ people feel they don't need-"

"Like _you_ should be the one to lecture anyone on lack of etiquette." She spoke before Wilson could formulate a reply and House frowned over at her.

"Hey – I'm just trying to get rid of him so I can get back to getting lucky-"

"Oh my God please tell me you aren't – weren't-" Wilson's horrified voice cut across House's and they turned to look at him.

"No."

"Yes." They answered together and she glared at House before turning back to Wilson.

"No."

"Not for lack of her trying though – constantly jumping me in janitor closet's – you should have seen what she did in her office today. I wasn't pissed at all about Stacy by the time she was done. She really does have a magic mouth you know-" She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, not at all gently. Wilson sat back, seeming to relax.

"Good, so you're not sleeping together. But you're... friends? I didn't know this. Why didn't I know this?" He was looking at House again who shrugged in response.

"Because you were too busy trying to score with the new nurse from ICU to notice?" Wilson nodded, as if half in agreement and she looked at him shocked.

"Wilson!" House snorted beside her and rolled his eyes.

"Please- he's on his third marriage and you've seen all his divorces – yet you're shocked by his lack of faithfulness?" He laughed slightly and Wilson looked away for a moment as if embarrassed. "However if monogamy turns you on Cuddy – I'm happy to inform you other than _one_ time, which I think you know about – I've never cheated on a woman. Wanna give me a go?" She glared at him, both for bringing up that one night and for making the suggestion in the first place.

"As if I would ever sleep with you." She bit out and his eyes laughed at her, because they both had added the mental _again_ to the sentence.

"Oh would you two stop! Seriously." Wilson scoffed from his chair, sinking further down as he glared at them. "I'm trying to watch-"

"Domestic bliss not quite so blissful? Did the future ex- Mrs. Wilson throw you out.. again?" House's tone was bored but he was watching Wilson intently as the other man sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Definitely a yes. She stood up abruptly and both men looked up at her in surprise.

"I'm going to.. go." She was already on her way to the door, grabbing her coat as she went and shoving her shoes back on her feet as she stood by the door. House caught her there, moving almost as quickly as she had, his gaze pinning her to the spot.

"You don't -" She shook her head and he nodded, both of them knowing that actually she did, and should.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow." She spoke softly, waving to Wilson who waved back half heartedly in her direction.

"I don't know what time my boss needs me there – she wasn't really clear-" He teased and she rolled her eyes listening to him. Waving him off, she pulled the door opened, not giving herself time to think about leaving, or to think about what House had been about to say before Wilson showed up.

* * *

He would be pissed. She _knew_ he would be – but really, what else could she do? It would help if she had been having a halfway alright day. But instead she had woken up late this morning – hadn't had time to have her first cups of coffee. Then she had almost hit a mother and her two kids crossing the road. Probably walking to the schoolbus, a little girl skipping ahead while her mother and smaller brother walked hand in hand behind her. She had stopped abruptly, her foot pressing down on the break and she had sat there – staring at the young woman's hand wrapped around a chubbier one. She hadn't moved until they turned down the street out of her vision, and she had been blinking faster than usual. 

She had ended up running into her office, throwing her briefcase on the couch before wrenching her arms through her lab coat and rushing to do her scheduled three hours in the clinic. It was something she did every week – either to remind herself why she was doing her job, or just for a break from the mindless paperwork. However, today she was inundated by twenty somethings who weren't really sick – just looking for an excuse to skip work or school or both. Some older patients who of course knew exactly what was wrong with themselves – she was the idiot for thinking it was something else – and two cases of sexcapades gone so very wrong that she almost hadn't made it out with a straight face. All of this added up to her sinking behind her desk at noon with a massive headache and a tension in the back of her neck that was slowly taking over her entire body.

When her phone rang, she had snatched it up – barely keeping her voice polite as she answered it. Dr. Orbach , head of the disciplinary committee had answered her, his voice grave. "Dr. Cuddy – after reviewing the files we have decided not to suspend Dr. Chase's privilege's." His voice had been gravelly in her ear and she had let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Thank you so much Dr. Orbach – clearly this was a matter best left to the committee, but I was really hoping you'd understand the extenuating circumstances-"

"I'm glad you recognize the committee's jurisdiction in matters such as these Dr. Cuddy." There was nothing happy in his voice ans she felt the tension in her neck creep across her shoulders heavily. "In our review of the file Dr. House's patient practices have come under our scrutiny-"

"House may have unorthodox methods, but he-"

"We-" His voice cut across her protests and she felt her back stiffen at the word. "-have decided that Dr. House will be supervised by another doctor of your choice for no less than one month." _Shit._ She bit her lip – unable to say anything that would be misconstrued – there was already more than enough rumors floating around the hospital committee's and boards about her supposed favoritism. She didn't need to add fuel to the fire.

"I understand Dr. Orbach. Thank you for letting me know in advance." She almost choked on the polite words before hanging up quickly and dropping her head in her hands. What in the hell was she supposed to do with this? House would be beyond pissed – that much she was sure of. A doctor of her choosing. They couldn't even enact their own punishment – leaving it to her to be disciplinarian instead. Her hands rubbed at her temples until she saw stars, wondering who in the hell she was supposed to put in charge of House.

Obviously she had to enact the ruling – if she didn't it would be both her and House's asses on the line. "Stupid arrogant asshole can't ever see a patient and just _do his goddamn job_!" She muttered, running a hand over her face in agitation. Her first instincts were screaming to appoint herself. Who else would House actually listen to? She stared down at her planner blankly. A month. Her days were already jam packed – her own handwriting on the page ridiculously cramped and tiny just to fit everything in. She didn't have time for this. She didn't have time for him to screw up and make her working day worse. She wanted to drop her head on the desk, and then lift it and repeat the action. A few times. Goddamn Chase.

It couldn't be her. As much as she'd like it to be – and probably as much as House would prefer it – the lesser of evils – she couldn't. So that left one of the fellows. Not Chase obviously – since she was inappropriately pissed at him for creating the situation in the first place. She felt a stab of guilt at that thought – his father... but she shook it off. He had just been reviewed, he couldn't take the position.

Cameron... but between the girl's inappropriate crush on House and her behavior last week with the AIDS patient... it would be a disaster. Putting her in charge would be asking for a lawsuit. She wouldn't be able to control any of them, and the social ramifications alone- she shuddered to think of it. That left Foreman. She frowned at the thought, reluctant to put him in charge. He was an arrogant doctor – one who thought in barely over a year he had learned all he needed from House. She knew the younger man thought of himself as better than his fellow doctor's – better than House himself, truth be told.

Maybe this was what he needed. To realize exactly how difficult it was to make those choices – to be the one solely responsible for the patient. House was many things – but despite how it often looked, he was always aware of his responsibility to the patients. She sighed, running a hand over her face and looking at her watch. House and Chase were meeting the committee now – she had to inform Foreman before they got back. She stood slowly, and tried not to think of House's reaction when he heard the news.

* * *

Wilson was there with Cameron and Foreman when she got there, and she wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. She stepped into the room awkwardly – wanting to be anywhere but here. They glanced up in surprise and Wilson watched her with a frown from where he sat by Cameron. "Cuddy?" His tone was questioning – she knew he knew her expressions well enough to know something was wrong. 

"The committee has decided to have another doctor supervise House for a month." She spoke in a tired voice and Wilson stood up in shock.

"What?! He wasn't even involved-"

"_Blackmail_ Wilson?! _No_ patient contact- we were stupid to expect no reprimand for it-" Her voice was rising and he paced the office before sighing in defeat.

"Who?" Cameron's voice was timid as she glanced between the two of them anxiously. Cuddy looked at her hopeful face with a sigh.

"Well obviously it will be Cuddy-" Wilson spoke quickly and she shook her head. He stopped and frowned at her. "You know he won't-"

"I know Wilson!" She snapped at him harshly. "But when exactly am I supposed to fit this into my schedule? It isn't a day or even a week – it's a _month_. I- I cannot do it." She sighed and leaned against the table. "Foreman-" He smiled smugly in response, leaning against the doorway to House's office. Cameron looked confused – and slightly offended but she didn't have time to coddle the girl. She wanted to remind Foreman forcibly that this was temporary – but she held her tongue.

Wilson stopped by Foreman, opening his mouth before glancing through the window and shutting it quickly. She glanced over and saw House striding down the hall, pulling his tie off as he moved quickly. He pushed his way into the room, ignoring everyone else and turning to her. "Did you know this was coming?!!"

"They called me an hour ago." She spoke softly and an out of breath Chase entered the room, making her wonder how fast House had gotten from the meeting to here.

"Now you are fired!" House turned, glaring at Chase but before she could veto that idea, Foreman spoke up, his arms crossed as he watched House.

"No he's not." House turned toward him, before looking back at her in disbelief. He shook his head, his eyes angry as they met hers. She wanted to look away – but she met his gaze head on. He didn't speak, he simply walked past Foreman to his door, holding it open for a moment, before glaring back at her.

She sighed soundlessly, walking past him into his office and waited as he closed the door of a sea of confused faces and one extremely smug one. He didn't look at her at first, moving over to shut the blinds before he turned his glare on her. "Are you _kidding_ me? Foreman – Cuddy – he is not ready-"

"Nowhere near ready." She agreed calmly, sitting down on the footrest of his Eames chair and letting him tower over her. "What in the hell else was I supposed to do House?"

"_You_ could do it-" He was standing almost above her now, staring down at her in accusation.

"When?" She snapped up at him, losing her calm for a moment. "_Some_ of us have jobs that we have to do – I don't have time to be doing _your_ job on top of it." He was angered by her answer, she could tell, but since she was angered that she had to explain it in the first place. She knew he'd be angry, but some small part of her had hoped they'd come far enough for him to understand.

"Oh yes, I'm sure deciding just _which _low cut top to wear to lure donors in with each day must be just so very awful for you." He spoke snidely and she blinked up at him, not quite believing that they had gone from last night to this in the blink of an eye. She stood up quickly, anger pumping through her veins as she glared at him.

"_Blackmail_ House. You blackmailed a member of _my_ staff and failed to inform me about it." She snapped at him, her voice rising with anger. "Not only that but you once again decided that you could diagnose without ever meeting the patient, add to that the fact that you _knew_ Chase was going through a personal crisis and did _nothing _about it – didn't tell me, didn't offer counsel to him-" Her voice was rising with every second until it was literally rough with her anger.

"None of which ever bothered you in the last eight years, so really, why bother starting the tough love now, Cuddy? Little late don't you think?!" He shot back and she stopped speaking abruptly, trying to rein herself in. His entire staff plus the head of her oncology department were outside listening to every word they were exchanging. She didn't speak for a moment, the silence stretching out in the space between them. When she did speak again, it was in a quiet controlled voice, the one that told him that she was pushed just a touch too far – and there was no going back.

"You will adhere to the rules of this punishment. Because if I find out you've circumvented it – it will be your ass I hand to the board House." She just gave him a deadly calm stare before she wrenched his glass door open and exited smoothly into the hallway. She was shaking by the time she entered the elevator, but nothing showed on her calm face. She had known he would be angry. She didn't know just how much it would hurt and anger her.

* * *

"He's driving me insane!" Not fours days into the new regime and Foreman was bursting into her office. She frowned at him in irritation. At least House burst in to argue, not to whine. _Well, not usually_ she amended. 

"What do you want me to do about it?" She asked in a disinterested tone as she attached the Diagnostics departments paperwork to the e-mail she was sending off to various insurance companies.

"Control him!" Foreman spluttered out and she grinned across at him. He seemed to go very still, as if seeing her happy was a warning sign of some sort.

"Controlling him is your job now." She smiled more widely, and shivered visibly. Standing, she grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and pulled it on in preparation to leave. "Oh God that felt _fantastic_ to say. Controlling him is _your_ job. Yours! Not mine." Foreman didn't seem to appreciate the sentiment though, as he moved toward her desk and glared at her.

"You chose me to make House miserable didn't you?" She wanted to laugh out loud at the thought – but found she was more irritated by it instead. He honestly thought every decision she made was based around House? Sure, he meant it in a negative way, but the thought still irritated her anyway.

"Apparently he's making _you_ miserable. That's impressive." She sat back down again and waited for Foreman's response.

"Find someone else." He huffed, turning to walk out of the room. She felt a wave of irritation sweep over her.

"No!" She snapped out, forcing him to pause at the door. "Aside from the fact that I'm actually getting paperwork done on time for the first time in.. well, eight years – you don't get to leave at the first sign of difficulty. Did you think he'd make it easy on you?"

"No." He turned around, his voice angry. "What I expect is my _boss_ to help me keep him in line!"

She checked her sudden anger, standing swiftly and moving over to the doorway where he was standing. "Dr. Foreman – you and I both know that you think you're the best doctor in that diagnostics department."

"I don't-"

"You think Chase lies to patients and doesn't care. You think House is completely lacking ethics and Cameron is too weak to be a good doctor." Foreman crossed his arms and watched as she cut him off quickly. "What you don't know is that you are nowhere near finished your training-"

"You just said yourself that paperwork is done – patients are being diagnosed-"

"Really? Which patient? Because right now you have a group of people with different theories and you're just testing them all to cover your own ass. The department is falling apart under you. Sure paperwork is done, but patient care is the most important feature of any department and right now you have two doctors convinced the patient isn't sick at all, and one who thinks she is. And you can't make a choice." Her voice rose as she was speaking, and he stood before her, his face sullen. She couldn't believe he actually thought he was ready to take over a department he had only trained in for a year and a half. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a board meeting to attend to. And you have a patient." She didn't wait to see if he responded or not, puling open her door and exiting the office quickly. Making her way upstairs to the meeting room, she frowned heavily, hoping that putting Foreman in charge wasn't the biggest mistake she'd ever made.

* * *

"He wants the department." Wilson was hissing in her ear and she looked over with an amused expression. 

"What?" Wilson was leaning against the wall next to where she was standing, in what she could only assume was an attempt to look casual – which he didn't. At all.

"Foreman." He hissed out of the side of his mouth, his face contorting horribly because of it. He turned toward her, glancing around furtively first. "He wants the job permanently."

She almost laughed out loud, but it would clearly ruin Wilson's spy versus spy game he had going on so she managed to choke it back. "What's he going to do? Get the board to stab House to death? Force me to appoint him? He can't do anything Wilson, because this is _temporary._" Wilson looked relieved at her words and she frowned at him. "Why would you be worried?"

"I thought maybe you would have... I mean the paperwork Cuddy- and that fight..." She glared at him and he stopped speaking abruptly.

"I would _not_ sell House out like that. Ever. He's a pain in the ass," She spoke with more feeling than usual, but managed to keep the anger out of her voice as she continued."-but he's the best doctor to run that department, no matter _what_ he does." Wilson nodded as she spoke and she looked through the chart in her hands idly. Discharge papers, actually. "Besides, I'm keeping more of an eye on the patient's now than I usually do. How is that an improvement?"

"Did you hear what Cameron did?" She nodded and waved the file slightly.

"Foreman is discharging her." She sounded doubtful and Wilson picked up on it.

"You don't agree?" He tilted his head inquisitively, speaking in a normal tone now that they weren't discussing coup d'etat's. She sighed heavily looking down at the file.

"I think... that-" She glanced around before continuing, leaning closer to Wilson who mimicked her and leaned forward as well. "- eventually.. House is almost always right. I just think that it wouldn't hurt to do the test- but Foreman wants to prove he can pick a diagnosis and stick to it."

"Well – that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah." She sighed again, glancing down at the file in her hands. "Except when it really is two things and not one. Do me a favor." She pushed the file into his hands and he glanced down in confusion. "She's about to be released. Tell House."

"What is House supposed to do about it-" He looked up, a frown on his face. She was already walking away, not wanting to know what House _would_ actually do. She ignored the tiny pull of guilt inside her, walking faster to escape it. Even now, when she would as soon kick House as look at him, she was still catering to his hare brained schemes. She needed a vacation. _Or some good medication_, she thought wryly as she headed down the stairs two at a time.

* * *

She hadn't said anything when Brenda had come in, handing her Anica's file. He had dosed her to prove his incorrect diagnosis. She hadn't gotten upset, she hadn't hauled him in and yelled. She did leave early, wrapping her red coat around herself and exiting the hospital quickly. Once out in the snow, she had paused – almost laughing at the thought that she was running. From Foreman, who was bound to come by, smugly pointing out what House did. House had been wrong. And then right again. Ultimately he had saved her life. 

The snow was heavy and she walked toward her car with a sigh. It was getting darker so much earlier now, and it was depressing. The cheery Christmas lights should have cheered her up, but they were only a forceful reminder of the fact that she was alone again this year. As she reached her car, she glanced back at the imposing building idly, staring up at it's imposing presence in the falling snow.

She sighed heavily, turning her eyes back down and wondering if a building alone could depress you. It was an imposing presence in her life too. As she moved her eyes down, she saw Wilson and House standing by the entrance, discussing something. Wilson exited quickly, and House stood, staring up for a moment, his expression almost nearing happy. When he looked back down, his eyes caught hers for a suspended moment. She felt a sudden longing to go over to him, ask about the patient and how he had known. But the anger was still there, just bubbling barely beneath her calm exterior and she turned away from him abruptly, jabbing her keys in the door and sliding behind her steering wheel.

When she pulled out, she didn't look in his direction, didn't glance over to see if he was still watching her. She just drove carefully through the snowy parking lot, navigating the treacherous roads with a practiced ease, not watching the shrinking image of him standing in front of the massive building in her rear view mirror.


	7. Problems

A/N: See? Moving along nicely now. Of course I totally leave you hanging on the whole 'what am I going to do with House and Stacy' thing but it's things like these that keep you reviewing and coming back for more!

* * *

She had paged him almost three hours ago. It was the first time she had attempted to talk to him since their – disagreement over Foreman taking over the department. She was still irritated with him – irritated by the fact that he clearly still thought she was in the wrong, as demonstrated by his glare whenever she passed, and how he would discuss her loudly with Wilson as she walked by. Wilson was attempting to remain neutral – she had warned him with punishment of death not to discuss anything she had done in regards to the case last week with House. She didn't need to explain anything to him – one would think after knowing her for damn near twenty years he wouldn't need it.

So they avoided each other in the halls, and it was easy – because Foreman was the one meeting with her about paperwork, and Foreman was the one finishing House's clinic hours just so his department wouldn't be behind. It was all an effort to impress her she knew – but he would never be given House's job. Of course what he didn't know wouldn't hurt her – or her hospital. She glanced at the clock and sighed in irritation. She had skipped lunch, because it would be just like him to show up in the middle of it – claiming he had answered her page, and it wasn't his fault if she wasn't there. She hadn't paged him more than once. She had refused to page him more than once. She was seriously contemplating going up to his office and beating him with his own cane – but she sure as hell wouldn't be paging him again.

"Your page said 911. Which kind of indicates an emergency. But I'm a little confused?" He had burst in on the tail end of her violent thoughts, standing in front of her desk with a sarcastic expression and his hand on his cane, swung out to the right dramatically. "I mean... _emergency_. Kind of seems important but you don't page me again or try to find me-" She threw his airline tickets on the desk in front of him and he stopped speaking, staring down at them.

"Medicaid wants to discuss your billing practices now that you've, you know – _finally_ filed your dictions. Your flight leaves at eight thirty tomorrow morning." She spoke in a disinterested tone – completely at odds with her actual emotions. She was irritated, and still angry. She was also slightly mollified by the fact that he clearly wanted to get back on equal footing with her, and yet annoyed by his way of going about it.

"Baltimore? Nothing is in Baltimore. Snow. And boring Medicaid guys. I can't go to this alone – you know I'll need someone from admin-"

"Stacy's going." She spoke shortly and he looked up at her in shock, momentarily speechless. She took advantage of the fact. "You need a lawyer if you don't want to end up liable or worse."

"Cuddy! I know you're still mad but this is cruel and unusual punishment." He threw the tickets back on her desk and shook his head. "I'm not going."

"You're going or Foreman's job promotion will become permanent, do I make myself clear?" Her voice was steel and he looked down at her, as if trying to ascertain the level of seriousness in her threat.

"Cuddy!" His voice was a high pitched whine and she ignored it, pulling some files across her desk and continuing her work, clearly an indication that the conversation was over. He didn't seem to get the point however, as he sat down and glared at her. "What about the cases-"

"You have no cases. And it wouldn't matter anyway, Foreman is there." She spoke in a monotone, not even bothering to look up. House snorted across from her, but she stilled stared at the file in front of her until the words swam across the page. She didn't even know whose file it was, but she wanted to look anywhere but at him, and she wanted him to leave. Now.

"Foreman couldn't diagnose the common cold! Cuddy you need me-"

"The hospital will live without you for three days House." She signed something, and pulled another file across to her without looking up at him. She glanced through the file numbly, feeling something large and heavy curled up inside her chest. She told herself it was anger. It felt more painful than that – but she ignored the feeling resolutely. She was angry. And for some reason she couldn't quite explain – she needed to stay that way.

"What about Mark? Stacy can't leave him – I'll just take another lawyer-"

"Stacy is going. Deal with it." This time she did look up, glaring across the desk at him. He stared back at her for a beat before sighing in disgust, and standing up. She glanced back down at the file in front of her, wondering why she had just won so easily. He didn't even slam the door as usual on his way out. Instead it clicked shut softly, and she knew from the lack of sound how angry he was. The fight was still on.

* * *

"Lisa, you cannot make me do this!" Stacy was sitting in front of her now, glaring resentfully and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Why Stacy?" She finally threw her hands up as she asked in exasperation. "Why can you not do this? Are you incapable of doing your job?"

"No!" Stacy protested vehemently.

"Are you afraid of spending time alone with House?" She spoke sarcastically but Stacy's expression faltered slightly and she just barely managed to keep her face from dropping in shock. _Shit_. Still – it wasn't as if House would- _shit_. "Stacy.."

"It's not that!" Stacy spoke quickly, as if to validate her own reasoning. "It's just- Mark and I... God Lisa. It seems like all we do is fight and I know that he's trying so hard with his therapy, but it's like he's an entirely different person." She wanted to shake her, and get rid of the eerie deja vu feeling she was getting. She and Stacy had had this discussion before. Different name, same excuses.

"I remember this speech." Stacy looked shocked and affronted, glaring before answering.

"This is not the same-"

"So you haven't considered leaving Mark at all." She spoke bluntly and Stacy flushed, looking down.

"I'm trying.." She trailed off and looked across at her, pleadingly.

She felt a sick feeling clawing it's way up the back of her throat, a sudden blinding panic that shouted danger at all five of her senses. This was a bad idea. A bad plan. "Stacy – I can send one of the other lawyers-"

"That won't be able to keep him out of trouble." Stacy sighed heavily and she wanted to sigh with her. It was the truth, Stacy was the best lawyer they had – but more importantly she was one of the only ones willing to fight – and fight dirty – for House. The rest of the legal staff could care less.

"Stacy-" She didn't know what to say to her friend. She wanted to scream at her to leave House the hell alone, but that wouldn't seem normal. She sought for the right supportive words to convince her that things with Mark would get better- but she came up empty. Stacy just shook her head, sighing tiredly and picking up the ticket she had dropped on the desk.

"It's alright. Different flights is good, thanks. And who knows, maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder... or something and Mark will get some perspective.." She finished lamely and Cuddy smiled and nodded praying that it would be the case for the both of them. With a wan smile and a wave, Stacy moved slowly out of her office as she watched, trying to ignore the panic pushing out of her chest. This was a bad idea.

"Damn you House."

* * *

"Need your advice, what's the best diagnostics department within sixty miles of here?" She poked her head through House's office door, fighting the sense of bizarre upon seeing Foreman in it, working on files and whistling. Whistling didn't seem appropriate in Greg House's office. Like screaming in a church, or something.

"We are?" He answered smugly – as if she was quizzing him and threw a trick question in there that he spotted a mile away. She rolled her eyes, gripping the file in her hand more tightly. She didn't need this right now.

"_We_ aren't here – House is in Baltimore lying to Medicaid about his billings."

"So?" Foreman shrugged. "I'm board certified." He smiled as he spoke and she stepped into the office wearily.

"_You_ are not House." She spoke slowly and he frowned slightly. It was kind of the point of everything, wasn't it? He never would be.

"Why'd you put me in charge of the department if you didn't think I could handle it?" He spoke in an amused tone and she wondered if he thought this was banter – because it so wasn't.

"Because it's temporary." She spoke quickly, spreading her arms as she stared at him. "And... because I was ordered to." She smiled at the end, but it wasn't the kind of smile that took the sting out – rather the kind that rubbed it in just a little bit more. His smile dropped off his face quickly. Sighing, he picked up some files, and stood quickly.

"What are the symptoms?"

"Come on." She scoffed, somehow managing not to laugh. "You're going to diagnose him without meeting him? Prove you're as brilliant as House?" She was being bitchier than strictly necessary, she knew – but her sense of unease about the Baltimore trip was growing by the hour. She walked toward him as she spoke and he put the files in the tray on top of the filing cabinet before turning to her.

"I need to know the symptoms to know which hospital to recommend." He spoke in a slow tone and she sighed, opening the file in front of her.

"EMT's report patient struck his head and is suffering from aphasia." She answered in a hurried tone – she wanted this file out of her hospital as quickly as possible.

"Huh. Neurological problem." He began walking back to the desk thoughtfully. "I know a lot of good people in that field seeing as I happen to _be_ a neurologist." She wanted to sigh, but just stared at him instead.

"You're pouting." She frowned at him, and he shook his head.

"Not at all." He denied, sitting back down. "Taylor's pretty good. House was ready to hire him, until he got my resume." He glanced up at her and she smiled in irritation. She bit back a comment about juvenile records before answering him.

"It's Fletcher Stone." She spoke slowly and he looked at her in confusion. "Wrote twelve books. Exposed three administrations." She elaborated carefully, hoping he would get the point. "Before he exposes _us_-"

"I get it." Foreman spoke quickly, throwing files down on the desk and glancing up at her. "Famous patient needs famous doctor. I'll call Taylor." He picked up the phone and she nodded.

"Thank you." She moved to turn away but his voice stopped her.

"Or... maybe you should call him." She turned with an expression of irritation. "What if I say something stupid?" She debated inwardly as he spoke – he would surely consult with House on this one – it wasn't as if House ever actually saw the patients anyway- he waited, with an eyebrow raised and the phone hovering above it's cradle.

"Oh God." She rolled her eyes and muttered, tossing the file at him. "House is easier." She exited the room quickly – hoping that whatever it was, House would be able to work it out via phone before Stone decided to while away his down time before diagnosis by examining her hospital. She frowned as she stepped on the elevator, her sense of unease growing exponentially as the doors slid shut. This had _all_ been a bad, bad idea.

* * *

She kept an eye on them. Of course she kept an eye on them – she'd have been insane not to. And when the wife came to her complaining about the variety of tests being performed on her husband, she wanted to go upstairs and choke Foreman in irritation. They couldn't agree on a diagnosis. So apparently he thought letting everyone try their own was a _good_ plan. Moron. She soothed the wife, somehow managing to convince the woman that they were just covering all of their bases – to better narrow down what was really the issue with her husband. She had barely closed the door when she was picking up the phone and dialing his number.

"Did you know that your number comes up Phone Fetish Fantasies? Are you calling me from work again Cuddy?" He sounded remarkably cheerful, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach seemed to triple in size in seconds. Swallowing her nervousness and the bile at the back of her throat, she ignored his joke and launched into facts.

"Fletcher Stone – came in presenting with aphasia and head trauma. I tried to pass it off-"

"Well of course. Dude writes some nasty books, and _I'm_ not there to save your ample, yet luscious ass." She could hear his smirk and sighed heavily.

"They aren't even on the same page about it- let alone the same diagnosis. Multiple tests, the wife is worried-"

"And you need Daddy to fix it. Oh alright, I'll call the kids and tell them Mommy isn't pleased. God, if you would just discipline _them_ more instead of me-"

"House." She spoke in a warning tone but he just carried on as if she hadn't even spoken.

"Of course, Daddy _does_ enjoy a good spanking every now and then-"

"House!" She broke across him more sharply this time and he finally stopped.

"Killjoy." He muttered into the phone with a sigh and she remained silent, unsure what – if anything – she could say to bridge the sudden gaping silence on the line. "Yeah, well – I'll check on them for you. Covering your ass is a _big_ job – but somebody's gotta do it." She was still trying to decide if there had been a little bit too much vitriol in his last statement to be considered a joke when the dial tone rang in her ear and she placed the receiver down gently with a sigh. She hadn't asked how it was going with Stacy. No news was good news. And much better than the bad, bad things her over active imagination was coming up with.

* * *

She had known when they had run away from her earlier. It was juvenile, but what else did she expect, really? Now she was pacing the conference room floor and wanted to hyperventilate, because not only was there not anything remotely close to a diagnosis or an _idea _for a diagnosis – now there was organ failure and he was actually _worse_ than when he came into their care. A tension headache was creeping over her and she wanted to see any expression other than the vapid confusion written across all three fellow's faces.

"It's either meningitis or encephalitis." She stalked behind Foreman as he sat slouched in his chair. Cameron glared from across the table and he sighed. "Or maybe auto immune." She turned in disbelief, glaring down at him.

"That's perfect. Seems like you _really_ narrowed it down over dinner." She began pacing again, walking behind him and thinking rapidly. "Here's the plan: We talk to House-"

"We've been _trying_, he's not answering his cell." Chase spoke tiredly and she transferred her glare to him.

"It's obvious we have to do the lumbar puncture, there's no choice anymore." Foreman spoke quickly and the phone rang as he spoke. Cameron frowned at it, and Foreman hit the speaker phone button. No one had even spoken, but House started speaking anyway.

"You have to do it just right." She stared at the phone, unsurprised but Foreman frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Either you've decided to do a lumbar puncture or you have to fire me so I can't fire all of you as soon as I get back in charge." She rolled her eyes at this – as if Foreman would ever be actually allowed to fire House. "Is Cuddy there ranting?" Her irritation surged and the tension creeping down her back mounted as she bristled at his tone.

"If I'd _known_ you'd be out of contact-" She spoke angrily and he cut her off.

"They can handle it." She almost snorted in disbelief, but settled for the more satisfying option of yelling at him more.

"Right. So far only _three_ organ systems have failed."

"Okay they can't. Doesn't matter guy's not stable enough to move, so go rant in your own office." She glared at the phone with an intensity that should have melted it. She decided not to argue further- but she had no intention of giving up so easily.

"Fine." She sniped down at the defenseless instrument. "Call me when you're done." She walked to the door, but didn't exit – giving the others a look to indicate that they continue on as if she had left. Finally Chase stepped up to the plate and continued.

"What do you mean by doing the LP just right? We're not going to screw up."

"The odds are this guy knows something that we don't." House spoke quickly and Foreman looked at the phone disbelievingly.

"He could know the answer to the meaning of life, the man can't communicate!" She bit her lip listening, watching the three different expressions facing the phone. Foreman looked exasperated, Chase looked thoughtful and Cameron looked confused.

"Have you had any indication that he's tried to communicate something important?" House spoke impatiently, ignoring Foreman's objections.

"No!" Cameron responded quickly, clearly offended that he thought they missed anything. She glanced at the floor as House continued speaking.

"Ah, that's because you guys haven't scared him enough. I'm sure you've been all 'oh we'll take real good care of you' , why should he say anything? When you prep him, tell him he's gonna die." He paused for effect and everyone stared at the phone silently. "Crush all hope. Don't let Cameron do it." Cameron looked exasperated, but didn't protest and neither did anyone else. Silence reigned for a moment until House spoke again. "Cuddy?" She looked up knowing that she shouldn't be surprised, and yet somehow still staring at the phone in wonder. "You got a problem with any of that?" His tone was almost confrontational, and she sighed heavily.

"No. You _still_ need to call me." She didn't wait for what was sure to be some sarcastic remark about audiences, or phone sex – she just nodded to the fellows and then left the room, the door shutting silently behind her. She knew he wouldn't call. She also knew that he wouldn't rest until the case was solved. Still, even as the elevator was making it's quick descent down to her office, she couldn't shake her feeling of panic, laced with foreboding.

* * *

He had solved it. Like there was a question about it – she had known he would. Of course there were casualties – the patient's marriage, a full night's sleep for her – but things like that didn't concern House. She had continued her day, nodding when halfway through Wilson poked his head in to say he was picking House up from the airport. She hadn't thought about him, much and actually left early – the stress and her early rising finally catching up with her. Depressingly enough, it was still dark when she left, climbing into her car and driving towards her home.

The feeling hadn't left her at all last night – still there as she was wakened in the darkness of early morning by a phone call from Foreman. Even now – exhausted and laying in bed, she felt it creep along her skin, curling up on her like a contented cat – with no plans of moving an inch. Her hands itched to call him. But every survival instinct she had screamed not to. Even before the argument such interference would have been unwelcome, and since it – well...

She sighed, rolling over in her bed and staring at the glow cast on the walls by the green digits of her alarm clock. She felt so out of control suddenly, like she was barely holding on to anything. For weeks she had known something was missing in her life. She thought she knew what – but now as she lay alone in the dark, she wondered. Maybe it wasn't friendship, or even love she was missing. Not of the romantic kind anyway. She lay still, listening to the sounds of her too quiet house as she concentrated on breathing, softly and evenly. Maybe... maybe she was looking for something more. Bigger. Or smaller, depending on how you looked at her. She smiled slightly in the darkness of the room before she sighed heavily, trying to push the heavy thoughts away. She managed to empty her mind, but the constant feeling stayed with her, stubbornly not moving, much like the man it centered around.


	8. Confusion

A/N: See how nice I am? I can't even keep you in suspense for more than a day, sigh. #hands in evul author's membership card# So review, kay? I need the comfort. Oh and how wrong is it that I'm uploading this saying - gee it's such a short chapter - and it's frakking over 4000 words!!! Oh and pretend stickers for whoever can find my little 'inside' joke in the House Cuddy scene. It relates back to the last episode (like the real one, lol).

* * *

She looked like crap when she got up the next morning. Her face reflected her lack of sleep, and she pulled on a plain black top and a severe black skirt that she almost never wore. She didn't look too closely at her own reflection as she did her makeup and she only drank one cup of coffee before she left the house. She had not been able to rest well the night before – and it showed.

Nurses winced sympathetically when she came through the doors, and avoided her gaze. Her office was quiet in the early morning gray light – not even it's warm yellow walls were able to penetrate the gloom she seemed to see everywhere today. She didn't understand it – didn't even know what in the hell was bringing this on, but she knew it was annoying, and she didn't like it.

When she walked out to the lobby an hour and a half later, she already felt like the day was ten times too long. Wilson, who was standing there glancing through a patient file, took one look at her and winced sympathetically. "Rough night?"

She shook her head silently – unable to come up with an appropriately deflective remark. He nodded understandingly and his eyes transferred back to his file after a moment. She stared ahead blankly, trying to remember exactly why she had come out there in the first place. A nurse slid yesterdays charts across to her and she started. Right. Files. The beginning and ending of her day. Wilson elbowed her in the side roughly and she glared across at him. He nodded toward the door significantly and she looked across in time to see House, strolling in and.. stopping to let an old lady by? She stared, open mouthed as he began whistling and continued to the elevators.

Her eyes darted to the clock and back to House in disbelief. "He's... on time." Wilson snorted in disbelief from beside her and shook his head.

"He's six minutes _early_." Wilson sounded as if at any moment, Rod Serling would walk up to him and announce that he was in the Twilight Zone. She frowned, watching as House made his way across the lobby. He was wearing _peach_. While not a clue – it was unusual. And he looked... groomed. Sort of. In a House-like way.

"Somethings happened." Even as she spoke the words out loud, the feeling she had been pushing aside for days crawled up over her, laying across her skin like a too heavy blanket. She felt something burn in the pit of her stomach and she couldn't seem to swallow. Wilson looked over her head, tracking House's progress through the lobby.

"I'm on it." As he walked away he spared a glance backward, frowning in concern at her. She could only imagine how she looked right now, her skin appearing whiter thanks to her brilliant wardrobe choice this morning, standing here clutching a pile of files almost desperately. She shook her head as if in a daze, and picked up the heavy stack, moving back to the clinic at a hasty pace as she fought to remember what she needed. One foot forward, then the other – right. Breathe, in out – smile at the nurses who were staring at her from the clinic desk. Wave Brenda off who looked ready to accompany her to her office – the last thing she needed was company. When she finally reached her sanctuary, she locked the door, closing all the blinds quickly.

Finally sagging into her chair, she sat in the now dark office and fought her growing panic. It might not have anything to do with anything. _Right._ House just normally strolled in, on time and cheerful. Hell that hadn't even happened _before _the infarction, let alone in the time since then. She ran a hand over her face, wincing at it's clamminess and trying to distract herself. It wasn't working though, so she did what she did best. Went into crisis mode.

What was the worst case scenario? Stacy had decided to leave Mark and marry House and have lots of little snarky babies- and she could deal with that. She'd just fire him. Or her. Stacy would be easier to excuse, and who knows – couples aren't happy all the time. It happened before it could happen again-

She broke away from her thoughts with shock, wondering what in the hell was wrong with her. It wasn't as if House was- or they were even- He wasn't even speaking to her right now. Or she wasn't speaking to him – she couldn't really remember which right now. It was almost time for Foreman's reign to come to an end and they were still fighting. A month was by no means a track record for them. She was pretty sure he had ignored her for almost a year and a half after his operation. She cradled her head in her hands, fighting to maintain some form of calm.

She had survived worse. Squaring her shoulders, she looked forward, finally turning on her desk lamp and sending light into the far corners of the room. Pulling her files toward her, she repeated it like a mantra in her head. She had survived worse.

* * *

Wilson was knocking on her door. She could almost always tell her staff apart by their knock – Wilson's was timid at first but more forceful with the second knock. Like he had convinced himself he had a good reason to interrupt. Pushing the files away from her, she rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, wishing some of the tension would go with it and stood up. When she unlocked the door and opened it, he looked startled by her appearance, before stepping in and glancing around her semi dark office with a frown.

"Are you alright?" His voice was concerned, and she tried to smile at him but it fell halfway through so she resorted to just nodding. "Because.. it is daylight out you know. What's with all the gloom?"

"Just a.. bad day. Is there something I can do for you Wilson?" She arched a brow at him, hoping she had sounded convincingly casual enough to keep him from being suspicious. He stared at her hard for a moment before shrugging and sitting down heavily on her sofa.

"We have a problem." He spoke seriously and she sat in the armchair against her own will which was screaming to get him out before he dragged her into the light of knowledge, kicking and screaming. "House and Stacy.. well it's a problem." He repeated and rubbed a hand along his pant legs as he spoke. She felt her stomach plummet and was thankful she had sat. _You've survived worse. _She had survived meeting Stacy the first time – smiling at the woman and pretending like she had done the worst thing in the world to her before she had even met her. She had listened to her discuss House- a painful exercise, as she fought not to say anything that would clue Stacy in. She had stood in an observation room and watched as they carved dead tissue from House's leg – and it felt so painful she thought for a moment it was her own. She had seen him stare through her afterward – like she didn't even _exist_ in his field of vision. She had faced down Vogler when it counted. She would survive this. "Cuddy?"

"Why are you telling me this Wilson?" She managed to speak finally, her voice dull and heavy. He looked at her in astonishment.

'Be- because! It's Stacy! Stacy who left him before. And we had to pick him up – well I did but you did just as much, just from the sidelines. She's going to do it again." He spoke with a certainty she feared, and shied away from. Was he right? Never once in all her planning for the worst did she stop to consider Stacy would hurt House again. Anger flared in her, dark and bright for a moment, until she breathed in and out once, remembering that it was out of their control.

"We can't do anything about it, Wilson." Her voice was softer this time – closer to human and he looked across to her, his dark eyes concerned.

"We could-" he faltered for a moment, before sighing heavily and nodding. "I _wish_ we could do something." She did too – but she didn't voice that thought aloud.

"You have to just.. let it be." She spoke, her voice a dry whisper in the dim room. It was bitter irony that she was advising Wilson to let it go when she knew she wouldn't be able to.

* * *

She was avoiding.. well, everyone by eating outside. It was cold, but her coat was wrapped tightly around her and her coffee cup was hot against her hands. She stared into it, wondering if a cup of coffee really counted as eating. Nothing else in the cafe had appealed to her, so she had taken her coffee and wandered over to a bench on the hospital grounds. She couldn't be _too_ far away after all. And yet it wasn't far away enough, apparently.

"I'm resigning." Stacy announced abruptly as she sat next to her on the bench, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. "Jesus it's freezing out here."

"You're resigning?" She repeated stupidly, her fingers clutching her coffee and staring at Stacy is disbelief.

"Mark wants to go home. I can't really blame him – he wants to get back to work. Back to our normal lives. And I – it's a good idea." Stacy was keeping something back, she could tell. A better friend would have probed gently, getting to the root of the problem. A better friend would have asked what was really wrong, and tried to help. Of course, she had never been a really good friend to Stacy – and it was a constant source of guilt for her. Not that Stacy knew that, so she just nodded and took a sip of her coffee, letting it warm her insides.

"I'm sorry to loose you." She finally spoke, looking across at Stacy who was watching her intently.

"Are you?" Stacy laughed, a hollow bitter sound. "Well, you're the only one. Lisa.." She held her breath, praying that Stacy wasn't about to say what she thought she was- wasn't about to discuss what she thought she would. Stacy seemed to be watching her seriously and she didn't move, stilling under her gaze. "I'll have my letter of resignation on your desk by the end of the day."

She let out her breath and nodded, watching as Stacy smiled softly and stood, shivering before striding back to the hospital with a wave. She looked down at her cup – it was growing cold in her hands and she stood, dropping it in the trash with a sad smile. Burying her hands in her coat pockets, she turned to walk back to the hospital, only to draw back in surprise upon finding House behind her, his eyes thoughtful as he watched her.

"House! You scared me." She spoke after her gasp and he continued to study her silently. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" He asked abruptly and she frowned up at him, pulling her coat closer to ward off the cold, or his probing gaze – she wasn't sure.

"I'm fine. What do you need?" She moved to walk around him, but he put out an arm, bringing her to a halt just inches from it. He shook his head as he stared down at her thoughtfully, his blue eyes roaming across her face intently.

"Liar. You look pale, and you haven't been sleeping well. You're wearing black – which you usually reserve for that time of the month, but you're off schedule." He frowned down at her as he spoke, and she wanted to laugh but couldn't quite manage it. It said something about the state of her life right now that the only person to notice her mental instability was the one who was fighting with her.

"House I don't have time for your games about whose the best stalker. You win. I'm tired because I haven't been sleeping well. It's none of your business-"

"When did you last eat?" He was turned toward her now, his large frame blocking some of the cold wind and she shivered in the sudden shelter.

"Does it matter?" She spoke bitterly and he glared at her.

"And you call yourself a doctor. See there's this ting that fuels the body – it's called en-er-gy. We get it from food." He spoke in a sarcastic tone and she shook her head to ward him off, holding up a hand in front of her.

"I eat. I ate." She frowned, trying to remember the last time – before shaking the thought off and glaring at him. "Don't you have a patient?"

"She was high on her kids meds." He pulled his own bottle out of his pocket, shaking out a pill and dry swallowing it before shrugging and pocketing the orange bottle once again. "People these days – huh?" He stared down at her for a moment, before reaching out and taking her elbow, pulling her along with him as he walked down the path. "And you are avoiding the question. Which means not anytime you can remember. You still like Indian, right? I'm in the mood for curry."

"House! I am not about to leave – I have- the hospital and I just finished my lunch break-" She protested weakly as he dragged her along beside him, moving off campus quickly and heading down the street.

"You need to it. I want curry. It works out nicely." He shrugged her protests off and continued plowing down the sidewalk with her walking along, towed by his grip.

"I- House- Stacy resigned." She finally managed to bite out and he stopped abruptly, swinging her around so he could stare down at her.

"That's interesting." He spoke thoughtfully and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well- Mark wanted to move back and-"

"No interesting that you thought that would stop me." He shrugged before turning again, amazingly agile despite his handicap, and continued pulling her along until he reached a small Indian restaurant. Opening the door, he pushed her inside and they were greeted by a wave of warmth and air heavy scented with spices. He didn't wait to be seated – despite what the sign said, and her pushed her down into a chair gently. Her stomach growled as the smells hit her, and she sighed, pulling off her coat and draping it on her chair.

"I don't know why i let you drag me into these thing. It's ridiculous-"

"No, what's ridiculous is that neckline. Are you considering a switch in careers, Cuddy? Discover a sudden longing for the nunnery? " He looked at her breasts pointedly and she glared across at him. She opened her mouth, but the waitress came by then, dropping menus into their laps and glaring at them.

"You'll need to move – this table is out of my area-" House smiled up at her and looked around the tiny restaurant, confused.

"Oh I'm sorry – I thought what with eight tables and all, anywhere would be fine. We'll have the vindaloo curry and two glasses of water. Hers will be vegetarian." He reached across the table, grabbing her menu and putting it on top of his before pushing them both back at the waitress who glared at him in return. He leaned back, allowing clear view of his cane resting against the other side of the table and smiling up at her. "Please?" The waitress stammered an apology, nodding and writing the order down before disappearing quickly.

"I didn't want-"

"Please who comes into an Indian restaurant and doesn't want curry? Do they even _make_ anything else?" He scoffed slightly, leaning back and staring across at her unnervingly. "I'm still mad at you, you know." He continued conversationally. "First Foreman, then Baltimore. If I didn't know better I'd say you had it in for me or something." He shuddered and she glared at him with her arms crossed. "You can't use the girls against me Cuddy, you covered them up. I can hear their screams of suffocation." He cupped a hand around his ear and she sighed, as the waitress set two large glasses of water in front of them.

"How did the Medicaid meetings go?" She finally spoke after a sip of water, attempting to steer them toward the safer topics of work.

"Fine. Stacy bribed them. You know all this."

"She didn't _bribe_ them-"

"See? I knew you knew all this." He spoke smugly and she glared at him for a beat more before he continued. "Aren't you going to ask how Stacy and I got _along_?" The waitress appeared just then with two steaming plates of food, and she watched him dig in with delight. Taking a bite, she wondered if his whole intention with the impromptu lunch was to mock her with it. "Well?" He spoke again after a few minutes of silence, when his food was more than half gone.

"I'm not going to ask House. I don't care as long as it doesn't affect the hospital-" She managed to lie in a convincing manner but he just laughed at her before shrugging and continuing to eat in silence. She ate too, wavering in between pride and regret. She should have asked. Once they finished eating she pulled out her wallet with a sigh, placing money on the table, and not surprised when he added nothing to the pile. At her glare he simply stood, shrugging.

"What? I figured I did my part forcing you to eat something before you pass out on a donor. I figure that should at least get me a free lunch." They pulled their coats on and she headed for the door quickly, but not quickly enough because he was still right behind her when she hit the cold. His hand again wrapped around her elbow, but he wasn't pulling this time, simply walking along beside her. Nothing else was said between them as they entered the hospital again and he left her side with a nod and she stood by the doors to the clinic, watching him go in confusion.

* * *

She was still confused when she came in the next day, but at least it wasn't that horrible bad feeling, so she shrugged it off and started her work. It was only ten am when Stacy came into her office quickly. "I need your advice." She didn't look up from her budget – the board meeting was the next day and the quarterly budget report was nowhere near done.

"Can it wait?" Stacy sighed, her watch making a dull sound against the wood back of her office chairs.

"Yeah." She turned away and then turned back. "No. Crap – Lisa, what was Greg like after I left?" She glanced up at that, wondering what in the hell to say to it. Her mind flashed to Stacy's face yesterday – when she should have asked about Mark, or House, or whatever the hell it was bothering her friend.

"Why are you asking me?" She questioned instead. "You know he blamed me just as much as you right after.." She trailed off, after all some things didn't need to be re-visited. "He didn't really talk to me for years after Stacy. As for us being close.. Stacy, we're still no friends in the traditional sense." Stacy gave a half laugh at that and sat down in front of her slowly. "Why?"

"Wilson said he was devastated. Warning me off, I don't even know why." She laughed shortly and Cuddy watched her, tilting her head slightly and listening. She stood, coming around the desk to sit in the other chair, her heart beating slowly in her chest. Sitting down, she wondered if what she was about to do was the right thing, but she ignored the warning bells and asked anyway.

"Stacy – what happened in Baltimore?" She held her breath even as she asked it, and Stacy looked across at her, sighing softly.

"Nothing. Everything." She smiled slightly, turning in her seat until she faced Cuddy. "Mark and I fought right before I left. It was-" She paused slightly and blinked rapidly, looking at the floor. "- it was bad. Real bad."

She put a hand out without thinking, rubbing Stacy's shoulder and watching in concern. "Stacey – has it been that bad?" Her friend nodded and she felt a sudden stab of guilt, deep in her chest. She should have known this – noticed _this_ instead of imagining...

"I didn't know what to do. And Greg was.. well, Greg." She laughed, a hollow sound. "Mostly an ass. But he noticed me. Asked how I was. I did something so stupid Lisa." Stacy put her head in her hands and she watched her fight to regain control. She was silent, letting her take the time she needed. "I kissed him."

She had thought she would react differently – hurt, anger. None of these things went through her at Stacy's soft whisper though – she only felt and small ache in her heart for Stacy. "Stacy.." Her voice was soft, and calm as she moved her hand in a circular motion on Stacy's back. Stacy made a bitter sound in the back of her throat, and looked up at her with wounded eyes.

"Oh it gets worse. He was- I don't know, shocked? He pushed me off – and I felt like a moron because I really thought all this time that he was just-"

"Waiting?" She spoke softly and Stacy nodded. "We all did."

"To top it off, I get home and Mark has been bending over backwards – pardon the pun-" She laughed, a watery sound and Cuddy smiled with her. "-to make things better. He suggested going back home. I agreed. But is it right Lisa? I mean I was ready to throw everything away a few days ago. I don't think i deserve him." Her voice was hesitant and Cuddy shook her head immediately.

"Stacy, no. Do you love him?" She questioned gently. Stacy nodded, but sighed at the same time.

"The problem is – is I think I still love Greg too. God that sounds horrible. I'm horrible."

"You're human." She countered and Stacy looked up from her hands. "House was- a very serious part of your life. What matters is who you are with now. If you love Mark, Stacy – and you're willing to try and make it work- You deserve to be happy." She spoke sincerely, and was surprised to realize she really meant it. Stacy smiled and nodded, taking her hand and giving it a brief squeeze before she stood up.

"Thank you Lisa. Seriously." Her voice was soft and Cuddy nodded in response.

"Well- go. It's not like it's the last time you'll see me before you leave. You're going to come and say goodbye right?" She laughed nervously and Stacy nodded, smiling wider.

"Of course. I'm out of here today – but we have to pack the house and get movers – switch doctor's and that will be a pain in the ass-"

"I'll get a list together for you." She offered and stood up, moving over to the doorway where her lab coat hung. She hadn't finished the budget – but she would have to stay late tonight, because she was due in clinic and had to do her rounds soon.

"I'll stop by before we leave leave." Stacy left quickly, with a half wave and she followed her out more slowly – locking her office door with a small smile. She was suddenly glad she had put red on today – because she felt extremely great as she exited her outer office, nodding at Brenda as she took a file and entered the first exam room.


	9. High

A/N: Don't ask me about my week - it was bad. Just review, and make me feel better about it, ok?

* * *

Her messages were in a haphazard pile as she set her coffee cup down and sighed heavily. Things had been incredibly busy this week – personnel reviews, plus three different meetings of the transplant committee. Her messages had clearly fallen by the way side – but her assistant at least should have filtered out the important ones. She ran a finger through them idly as she sipped her too hot coffee. Weeks like this one were why she took vacations. God, vacations. One would be so nice right now.

She glared down at the pile of innocent pink paper slips, sifting through them and pulling the most urgent out one by one. The only good thing she could say about this week so far was that House didn't have a patient. So at least she wasn't dealing with him on top of her five million other things that needed doing. She had gotten home last night only to fall into bed right away – and it didn't look like it was going to get any better. She ran a hand down over her face and frowned at the thought. House had been almost suspiciously quiet this week, but she didn't have the time – or the inclination for that matter – to go running after him to find out why. She knew he was much happier now that Foreman's reign was over – and secretly so was she. Paperwork got done with Foreman, but not having House balk every step of the way was a definite improvement.

Sighing, she pushed the messages aside and pulled the file Legal had sent down toward her. It was depressingly thick and she wasn't even a third of the way through it when a short sharp tap sounded on her door and she looked up in time to see Brenda poke her head in. She tensed – waiting for the inevitable. "We need audio/visual set up for the lecture hall." Brenda was brief and she frowned at her.

"What for?" She demanded quickly and barely glancing up from her reading. Her eyes scanned the words until they burned into her retina, and she flipped the page quickly.

"For the lecture." Brenda answered as she turned another page, her eyes scanning ahead, line after line.

"What lecture?" She asked in a distracted tone, legalese filtering through her brain as she frowned. She reached for a pen, finally deciding to just sign the damn thing.

"Dr. Webber's lecture." Brenda returned promptly and she glanced up with a frown, pulling the pen closer to her.

"Who is Dr. Webber?"

"A neurologist.. I _think_. The memo was from you." Brenda stepped into the room and she looked up, several things crossing her mind at once as she frowned more deeply. She hadn't sent a memo about a lecture – she always wrote lectures down in her calendar and even had her computer give her a three day warning. There was no three day warning. And why the hell was _Brenda_ telling her this – shouldn't she be off somewhere doing.. nursing things? House called her evil but she really was a good nurse- _House_. Her eyes narrowed as she took the memo from Brenda. House had been quiet. Her eyes scanned the memo, announcing the lecture of a Dr. Webber on his revolutionary new drug – it didn't even remotely _resemble_ her signature. Although she supposed, since it _was_ left handed – but the writing was short and spiky, whereas hers was clearly more tall and rounded. And spiky.

"Where is my assistant?" She asked as she stood up, pushing herself off the desk quickly. She didn't need this right now. Not this week. She was going to kill him. And of course it was him – how many left handed doctor's were in her hospital? Well – probably a few – but it didn't matter – it wasn't one of them, it was _him_.

"She left." Brenda answered with a frown and she looked at her in surprise.

"When?"

"Wednesday." Brenda was leaning on the desk and looking at her with sympathy and she tried to remember last Wednesday. That was over a week ago – how had she not noticed no assistant?

"Seriously?" She had to ask, because it couldn't have been _last_ Wednesday. She would have noticed.. right?

"The temp agency sent someone but she got lost." Brenda informed her and she frowned. Who had ordered a replacement? Clearly not her since she didn't even notice her last assistant quitting. Obviously whoever the temp agency was sending wasn't the brightest bulb in the box anyway – how hard was it to get here? Hospital. Most people knew where it was. Most intelligent people anyway.

"Well when _she_ gets here, fire her." She moved around the desk, stalking angrily toward the door with the memo in her hand. She didn't have time to kill him – but she was going to enjoy it anyway, since she had no choice now. It would make a nice little break in between legal contracts. She smiled as she strode through the hall, a smile that sent nurses scurrying out of her path in fear. She was debating the merits of strangulation versus good old fashioned stabbing when she stepped on the elevator.

She tried his office first – which was a bit stupid of her really. He was never where he was supposed to be. His meeting room was empty too – which meant he must have caught a case. She moved over to Wilson's office, poking her head through the door after knocking. He was sitting with several files in front of him, looking slightly harried as he looked up. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen House?" She asked, straight to the point. Wilson chuckled and shook his head.

"No. Sounds like someone is in trouble." He leaned across his desk, but she didn't have time to indulge in gossip.

"The day I'm looking for him and he's _not_ in trouble is the day you need to worry Wilson. I'll check his usual haunts. Thanks." She didn't wait for his response, puling out of his office and heading for the stairs. The second floor was only two flights down, and she would be quicker on the stairs.

She saw him as she strode down the hall, through the open door of the coma patient's room, squinting at a screen and looking incredibly pleased with himself. She walked in, deciding the best way to handle this was calmly. Calm. She could be calm. "Did you issue this memo?" She held it away from her as she walked up to the patient's bedside.

"Look at that!" He spoke proudly and she glanced at the screen without taking it in, before turning back to him.

"Congratulations. The patient that has been in a coma for two years and counting is _still_ in a coma." She spoke dryly, unfolding the memo and glaring at him. "This is not my signature. I don't know anything about this guy and I'm supposed to introduce him – have lunch-" She glanced at the screen as she spoke, and was startled by the amount of red on the imaging screen. "The coma patient has a migraine?" She frowned as House wrote something in the file he was holding.

"Oh no no no no I gave him medicine to _prevent_ a migraine." He looked over at her as he spoke and she frowned.

"_That's_ a migraine. Increased flow velocities in his cerebral arteries." She waved at the screen and he looked at her innocently.

"I did also give him nitroglycerin which could possibly-"

"You _induced _a migraine in a coma patient?!" She snapped, staring at him in disbelief.

"Gave him a little headache-" He started but she cut him off quickly.

"House – let's just ignore the million ways this is ethically wrong – you have no conclusive proof he cannot feel that! You are experimenting on a _patient_ – with _my_ equipment – we only have a few ultrasonographic Dopplers – besides which-" She was ranting now, standing in front of him with her arms crossed in front of her. He was leaning back slightly, watching her without a single trace of guilt on his face. He actually looked like he was enjoying it.

"I'm testing a migraine prevention medicine, and I can't do it on someone who can actually _feel_ pain." He spoke to her slowly and she rolled her eyes. It rang a bell somewhere in her mind, but she ignored it, shoving the memo under his nose instead.

"Did you sign this?" She demanded , despite already knowing the answer. He studied it for a moment and she caught a few words out of the corner of her eye as he did so. _Dr. Webber... pain institute .. break through drug.. migraine prevention.._ Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Uh.. yeah." He turned to her as she mentally imagined wrapping her hands around his throat. "We can discuss the appropriate _discipline_ later." He waggled his eyebrows and let out a growl, before moving to go past her. Her hand shot out and she gripped his elbow tightly before he could escape, pinning him with a glare.

"Now is good." She spat out, looking at the memo in her hand and then back up at him. "It strikes me as oddly.. _coincidental_ that you issue a memo – _in my name_ -" She smiled tightly at him and he glanced at the floor, the ceiling and the walls – anywhere but at her. "For a lecture on a breakthrough migraine medication and lo and behold! Here you are _testing_ a migraine medication." She was speaking through her teeth now, and he fiddled with his cane, not answering her in the silence.

"Come to think of it." She continued, frowning down at the sheet of paper in her hand. "Philip Webber.. sounds familiar. Like I've heard it before.." He reached across her, plucking the sheet from her hand and chuckling.

"Of course you have Cuddy. He's been published several times." Her grip tightened on his arm and he frowned down at her hands. "I really don't have time for the S&M right now Cuddy – patient you know and-"

"What patient?" She ground out, still glaring at him suspiciously.

"Burn victim – trauma unit sent him to me- he's got a wonky heart." He shrugged and she stared at him for a beat longer before releasing her grip on his arm suddenly.

"_You_-" She leaned in closer, staring up into his face. "- are so fortunate that I have about five million other things to do more important than figuring out what in the _hell_ you are planning. If it's bad for the hospital House – I will have your ass." He grinned down at her in response, leaning closer.

"I look forward to it Cuddy." He escaped, moving quickly out of the room as she glared at the empty space before her and tried not to smile. He was going to be in so much trouble. Later. After she finished the week from hell, she would take care of House.

* * *

It was like the world was screaming one cosmic sign after the other at her as she made her way down to the lecture hall. She had returned to her office this morning only to discover the board meeting dealing with the personnel evaluations had been moved up a day. Then – as she was trying to complete them, House's patient's parent came in complaining about what they referred to as 'Frankenstein' type tests. After soothing them and explaining – after having to locate and then study his file for a good ten minutes while they waited – that due to the nature of their sons burns – it was the only way to test him – she had just gotten submerged in the reports again when Brenda had poked her head in to give her a fifteen minute warning about the lecture she hadn't even set up.

To top her perfect morning off, she had damn near broken her heel when she tripped going down the stairs, the only thing saving her was her death grip on the railing. She was pissed, muttering and nursing her now sore left wrist as she entered the lecture hall. She smiled and shook Dr. Webber's hand, sticking to polite vague niceties that didn't scream 'I have no clue who you are.' After a few awkward moments, she finally stepped onto the dais in front of the semi full lecture hall.

"Thank you all for coming to today's lecture by Dr. Philip Webber." She smiled nervously – she hadn't even had time to write a speech, only just barely managing to print a bio out on Webber before she left her office. "Who is our guest today. At our hospital." Her eyes caught on one particular audience member, slouched low and wearing dark glasses and a really terrible hat. She'd recognize his rangy frame anywhere however – and it was a terrible disguise anyway. "To talk about.. headaches." She was trying to focus on the introduction, but the fact that House was there – watching her and smirking was a distraction. Of the blindingly angry kind. "Dr. Webber is at the Webber Center for Pain.. which makes sense. Webber, Webber." She was talking to herself and shaking her head. She would maim him for this. "So please welcome Dr. Webber." She shot a deadly glare in House's direction before walking off stage and exiting the lecture hall quickly.

After pausing a moment in the nurse's break room on that floor to grab an advil for her wrist, she circled back down the hall, standing by the lecture hall doors to observe. She saw that Wilson was now seated with House, muttering to him and looking generally embarrassed. She narrowed her eyes as Wilson looked at House shocked, and made her way into the room quietly, sliding into a chair one row behind them.

"This guys name is Webber, not von Leiberman." Wilson was whispering to House and her eyes widened as she missed what House said in return. Of course! Philip Webber – she knew she had recognized the name and she glared down at the back of House's horribly garish trucker hat.

"I'm not here about the past, he's a bad scientist." house muttered to Wilson and Wilson looked mildly amused.

"Well you cheated off of him, how bad can he be?"

"He got the answer wrong." House muttered back, trying to pay attention to Webber on the stage. Wilson stared at him askance, before turning to face the front of the hall again. "I'm not even pissed about Hopkins. Who wants to go there? Michigan was just fine."

"Oh please you are doing this to get back at him-"

"And if you do I will hurt you House." She had leaned forward to whisper, and both men jumped slightly, turning around.

"Jeez Cuddy – did the devil give you incredible silence as a power when you sold him your soul? Don't creep up on people like that!" House whispered back to her and she rolled her eyes, leaning further forward and glaring at him.

"I mean it House – do not embarrass this hospital or so help me I will-"

"You saw the results this morning. He's hocking a bad drug!" He whispered back angrily. "And not that I'm not loving the view of the Lincoln tunnel here – the girls are looking mighty fine from this angle – but I'm trying to enrich my mind and my mother warned me about girls like you." He returned to facing forward and she sat up abruptly, glaring at him.

"You stalked this guy for twenty years just for this shot to humiliate him?" Wilson was asking incredulously and House shrugged.

"Had to practice the skills on someone. And shh.. I'm learning." He listened to Webber lecture on stage before snorting softly. "He doesn't even know what that means!"

"You're going to interrupt him aren't you?" Wilson spoke in resignation and she sat forward again.

"If I have a question."

"House." Her voice was a warning and he turned, pulling a face at her quickly before turning back.

"You have got to find less debilitating habits than humiliating people!" Wilson was whisper frantically now, shooting glances back at her as if she could do anything about it. Short of tasering him – there was no way she could get House out of here without a scene. She wondered idly if a Vulcan neck pinch would work in real life as Wilson sat back heavily. "I hear.. bowling is more fun than stalking."

"I'm better at this." House shot back snidely. "And whoever said that never stalked her-" He jerked his head back to indicate herself. "_Way_ more fun. Trust me."

Both she and Wilson dropped their heads in their hands, looking up only when Foreman crouched beside Wilson, not even blinking at the get up House had on. "We found a subarachnoid bleed." He whispered to House who frowned over at him.

"Bleed in the head isn't causing seizures." He turned back to the lecture and Wilson looked over at Foreman.

"It could be." Wilson spoke up softly. "Ten percent with damage to the cerebral cortex have seizures."

"Or bacterial meningitis." Foreman responded and she leaned forward with interest.

"Viral encephalitis?" She offered up and Foreman shook his head, frowning.

"There's no way to tell without-"

"Shut up!" House spoke loudly and half the hall turned towards them, including Webber.

"Excuse me?" Webber spoke from the stage and all four of them turned to look at him.

"Not you." House spoke in irritation and Webber frowned up at them.

"You know if my lecture is interrupting your meeting I can wait." Webber spoke sarcastically and House looked down at him smugly.

"Bahatchat kria." House answered and all three of them frowned in confusion at him. "As your people say in India, appreciate it." He turned to Foreman as Webber looked on in amazement. "We'll figure out why later. And fix the bleed or he dies. See you in a couple of hours." Foreman got up, leaving the hall quickly again and House turned back to Webber, indicating that he should continue.

Once Webber did she and Wilson both turned to House. "House your patient-" She began only to be cut off.

"Is fine for the moment. Not leaving." He practically singsonged and she and Wilson exchanged looks behind his head. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, as she sat back. It was almost like driving by a car crash. She had things to do – more important things to do and all she could seem to do was sit here and watch disaster unfold.

"House your test wasn't even controlled-" She began but he waved her off glaring back at her in irritation before turning and paying attention to Webber's speech. After a few moments he sat up straighter.

"Er – excuse me doctor." She and Wilson both heard the heavy sarcasm, but Webber just turned in curiosity. "It's always been my understanding that unless you follow a daily regimen no drug can prevent a migraine." Wilson was sinking lower in his seat beside House and she was inching forward slowly. Almost eagerly, but she dismissed that though. She just needed to be close enough to hit him.

"That's why they call it a _breakthrough_." Webber was being snide now and she frowned, deciding she didn't really like him. It was her experience that short men tended to be mean.

"That's why _you_ call it a breakthrough." House rejoined and Wilson slid further down as she fought a smile.

"No the pharmaceutical company sponsoring my clinical trials also hails it as a breakthrough." Webber had walked to the edge of the stage now, frowning up at them.

"I'm sure your wife and lawyer do too. Is there anyone who _doesn't_ stand to make a fortune from it calling it a breakthrough?" Webber looked angered now, and she sighed because she knew House was just hitting his full stride.

"Who are you?" Webber was frowning up at them, moving slowly off the stage as he spoke.

"Just a lunatic who desperately needs a hobby." Wilson muttered from behind his hand and she snickered softly behind them. House ignored both of them.

"And just how exactly did these studies work? You give this drug to a bunch of people and if they don't get a migraine you go 'voila, my drug works!'" House was spitting out and she stared at him, wondering if he had ever done a medical study in his life. He pointed to a younger woman a few rows down from him, leaning forward. "excuse me miss, do you have cancer?" Wilson groaned beside him and she sighed heavily, while the girl looked confused. She shook her head and House glanced back at Webber. "Wow! Mango juice prevents cancer!" He was indicating the girl's juice bottle and she smiled slightly.

"Uh, perhaps I should have taken my medication before this lecture." Webber joked and House laughed loudly and obnoxiously at it. Wilson looked like he was about to slide onto the floor and she was watching in disgusted fascination, torn between laughter and horror. Webber looked back up at House with a frown. "We had a very specific control group – Chronic migraine sufferers. I don't have time to go through the maths right now but the incidence was dramatically-"

"Sure in India. Two plus two equals five there right?" She and Wilson both turned glares on him, but he didn't even notice.

"Do I know you?" Webber was studying House intently now as he made his way closer to them.

"I know your math skills. They blow." House responded and Wilson looked like he wanted to disappear.

"You sound very familiar." Webber was drawing closer now and she was holding her breath, waiting for it. "I know I know you."

"Sure you do Dick." House was speaking snidely now and Webber frowned.

"The name's Philip."

"Oh my bad. Something to do with your face. I always think your name is Dick." House was leaned back comfortably now and Webber's face lit up in recognition as he covered the last few steps to their level.

"House!"

"Here."

"Medical school was twenty years ago, give it a rest. Grow up." Webber was clearly angry but trying to hide it and his gaze transferred over House's head onto her suddenly guilty one. "Dr. Cuddy – I don't know what type of behavior you condone in _your_ hospital-" She wanted to sink like Wilson now – but instead she raised her chin a notch and met his gaze levelly.

"Hey!" House snapped, actual anger in his voice now. "Eyes down here – she has nothing to do with this. I tested it."

"Oh really? Where's your study?" Webber was obnoxious now, folding his arms and glaring down at House.

"Room 2134." House answered, causing Wilson to look over in surprise. She glared at Wilson, willing him to shut up but he was out of her reach and he opened his mouth.

"Coma guy?" House glared at Wilson and Webber looked smug at the information.

"You haven't changed. You took shortcuts in med school and you're taking shortcuts now, you can't test it on an abnormal brain. Cerebral cortex atrophies in coma patients." She frowned as Webber talked, that could be debated - "You need live conscious people. You don't know everything House." He strode back down the aisle angrily, and House frowned thoughtfully. She let out a huff behind them, rolling her eyes as Webber continued his lecture.

"Oh please – there have been instances of average metabolism in cerebral cortex's of comatose patients – like he knows -"

"My my Cuddy. Quite the vicious little thing aren't you?" House was turning back to her, a determined look in his eyes. Webber concluded his disastrous lecture, and people were pouring out of the lecture hall around them.

"The two of you make my head hurt. Seriously House-" Wilson was speaking but House stood quickly, shaking his head down at the man.

"Can't talk – gotta go. Patient dying you know." He spoke insincerely before nodding at both of them and exiting the hall slowly due to the stairs. They watched until the door shut and she looked down at Wilson who was wearing a long suffering look.

"Why do I have a really bad feeling that he isn't just going to let this go?" Wilson spoke finally and she glanced over at him with a frown.

"I can't deal with this today – keep an eye on him, please?" She stood too, walking up the stairs with Wilson who nodded in agreement before she went out the door and turned down the hall, hoping that somehow Wilson could keep control of him.

* * *

She somehow managed to make it through the meeting the next morning, she had had to stay until almost one AM last night to finish the reports in time, but it was over, and she was actually relaxing for the first time all week. She passed through her empty outer office with a frown – still no assistant. She needed to call the agency about that. When she entered her office she found an agitated Wilson waiting for her.

"He took it!" He launched up quickly when she walked in and she frowned at him hevaily.

"Who took what?" She spoke slowly and he waved his hands in frustration.

"_House_! House took the medication and then induced a migraine. The moron." His voice was high pitched and she frowned at him as she listened.

"What? He tested himself?" Wilson nodded, seemingly pleased that she had finally caught on. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?"

"The drug – did it prevent his migraine?" She spoke simply, thumbing through the files on her desk idly.

"Good God Cuddy you can't be _supporting_ this behavior?!!" His tone held censure and she frowned, turning back to him quickly and leaving the files on her desk. "He is addicted to pain. He's using it to distract him from the fact that Stacy left-"

"No he's not Wilson." Her voice was a soft warning and it's lack of volume caused his own words to falter.

"You don't know him-" Wilson started and she felt an almost physical reaction to his words. Of course she _knew_ him. Who was he to insinuate- she sighed softly, shaking her head.

"Leave him be." She finally spoke simply, shrugging as she turned back to her desk.

"He's in pain. He can't even open the blinds in his office let alone do his job-" Wilson began but she put up a hand to stop him.

"I'll keep an eye on him today. You have a morning full of patients and then you need to be at radiation all afternoon." He nodded, watching her wearily for a moment. "What? You can't trust me to keep an eye on him?"

"No. No it's fine. Thanks. You may want to go check on him now – he can barely stand half his team normally – in that much pain..." She nodded and watched him leave with a thoughtful expression. She checked her messages and after returning four calls, and letting Brenda know she would be unavailable – she headed upstairs. She was halfway down his hall when she was joined by an incensed looking Cameron.

"Dr. Cuddy! _Just_ who I needed to see. House is _high_." The younger woman was angry – that much was clear. Her eyes were sparking and she was standing in front of her aggressively, her hands on her hips as she delivered the news.

"Dr. House is always high Dr. Cameron." She spoke slowly, and Cameron glared at her, letting her breath out in a frustrated huff.

"I went to see him about the patient – he was in the locker rooms, getting a shower. He said he could _see_ music. He's higher than usual." As Cameron spewed out her story angrily, Cuddy frowned, listening intently. House was an idiot – but he also knew his medicine. Shit. "I think he's on LSD." Cameron added helpfully and she tried to look amused by the thought, and slightly disbelieving. Cameron was angry enough now that she needed to be handled carefully.

"LSD has a half life of twelve hours Dr. Cameron. If he still seems out of it when he gets back from his.. shower, let me know." Cameron nodded mutely and she strode past her, down the hall and around the corner before she took the side stairs down to the pharmacy before taking the elevator up to the fifth floor. Thankfully the locker area was empty, and she headed through the door to the shower are quickly, locking the outer door behind her. House was leaning against the tile, still in a towel with a ridiculous smile on his face.

He cracked open an eyelid at the sound of her heels, and his smile widened. "Cuddy..." His tongue dragged out her name and she sighed, standing over him as she checked his pupils. They were pin pricks in a sea of blue. His hands came up to her waist clumsily, fumbling with the hem of her suit jacket while she held a finger to his neck and timed his pulse. His heart rate was high and his skin was hot with fever. She cursed under her breath and noticed his hands had come to a stand still, resting on her hips as he stared back at her.

"You dropped acid?" She spoke clearly and he nodded slightly.

"Activates seratonin – no more headache." His voice was gravelly and she stared down at him in disbelief.

"You cannot do your job high out of your mind and hallucinating House!" She breathed out angrily and he laughed at her softly, his hands sliding further up under her jacket.

"Why are you always wearing so much?"He frowned down at his hands and she pushed his arms away until she had them pinned at his sides. She was leaning over him now and he was staring down her shirt blatantly. "God they're even prettier when I'm stoned." He spoke with a half smile and moved his eyes back up to her face slowly. "Cuddy.."

She felt her heart slow as he moved closer to her, inching upward. She could smell him – the soap from his shower and the bitter aroma on his breath. A shiver went through her and she felt her body react, tightening as he breathed on her neck softly – the heat making her tingle. She closed her eyes for a moment as he leaned forward, burying his face by her neck and inhaling. She almost let go of his hands, her own itching to wind around him. His stubble scraped across her neck and chin and she shook slightly at the sensation, heat pooling low in her belly as she fought to remain standing. When he pulled back, moving his mouth over hers, she opened her eyes and saw his - how _blue_ they were and she pulled away from him in shock. He was _stoned_, and she was – she had nearly – God.

He blinked up at her in shock, shivering slightly in the movement of air her body had created. Frowning, she walked into the bathroom area, grabbing a paper cup and filling it with water. Walking back into the locker room, she pressed it into his hand, and dug some pills out of her pocket. "Take these." Her voice was low and rough and he smiled at her again.

"Why?" His voice was lazy and she sighed heavily.

"Because if Cameron sees you like this – again – she'll _know_ you took something. And next time, I'm sure she'll report to somebody other than me. And you'll get fired at best – get your license revoked at worst. Anti depressants will short circuit the drug – and make you your usual self." She answered him shortly and he nodded, taking the pills from her hand and swallowing them.

"Didn't know you cared so much Cuddy." His grin was lecherous and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't." She snapped down at him, anger making her voice even rougher. "The paperwork would just be the cherry on top of my absolutely shitty week. Now go get dressed, wait for the drugs to kick in and go prove Cameron wrong. And while you're at it? Figure out what the hell is wrong with your patient!" His smile grew as she yelled at him, and he shook a finger in front of her face.

"You're a liar. Liar Cuddy. And I will do all of... the rest of what you said." He turned an innocent expression up to her and she rolled her eyes before turning and walking toward the door. She shot him a glance over her shoulder as she pulled the door open, to find him watching her closely. Shaking her head, she pulled the door closed behind her before exiting through the locker room and moving swiftly back to her office. Her head was pounding by the time she reached it and she sank into her office chair with a sigh. She barely even knew what she was doing anymore. She was getting so lonely – or desperate - she needed to figure out how to fix this.. whatever it was she felt around House. And fast.

* * *

She was limping slightly when she walked through her door that night. An intense game of tennis gone wrong, she had pushed off oddly and was now the proud owner of a self diagnosed slight sprain. She shut her door tiredly, closing her eyes as she leaned against it for a moment. The week had been exhausting and really she should have left work today and gone home to relax, but because of her hectic schedule she'd had hardly anytime to run this week – and she needed the workout. Sighing, she pushed forward, intent of getting an advil and an icepack from her kitchen. She was halfway across the hall when a voice rang out – scaring the shit out of her.

"Are you _mocking_ me?" He left her armchair and came to lean in the doorway, waving his cane toward her leg in case she wasn't clear.

"I'm always mocking you." She spoke seriously after recovering from the surprise. She was annoyed he was there- but thankful he wasn't a robber or psycho. Well... he wasn't a robber anyway.

"Hurt yourself?" He was pulling her into the living room as he spoke, pushing her until she was seated in the chair before disappearing for a few moments and returning with an icepack. He sat on her coffee table and pulled her foot into his lap gently, resting it on his left leg carefully. She gasped when the cold hit her skin and he grinned.

"Tennis. It'll be fine tomorrow – it doesn't hurt too bad. Why are you here?" She frowned across at him and he glanced away, shrugging.

"I just wanted to drop by. See if you were -" He sighed halfway through and turned to look at her. "I wanted to say.. thanks." He muttered the last part so quickly she almost didn't hear him but she didn't press it either. "You didn't have to do that today – and I'm sorry about almost... you didn't even yell at me."

"Yeah well. You're an idiot." She spoke dryly, flexing her foot slightly under the bag and then pointing it to stretch it out. "It was a stupid plan, but then taking the nitro in the first place was stupid. Did it work?" He grinned, and she knew it had.

"I just sent a helpful e-mail to the pharmaceutical company. It's what any good soul would have done." He shrugged and she laughed, the sound low in the back of her throat. He looked up at her and for a brief moment she remembered his eyes on her in the locker room and the feel of his breath across her skin. Her laughter died in her throat and she looked away quickly.

"You don't have a soul." She finally managed the weak jab after a moment of awkward silence.

"I sold it to you." He sniped back and a small smile crossed her face.

"I always told you I owned your ass." Her smile grew and she shifted her foot slightly, careful not to bump his other leg. His hands were resting on her calf now, large and warm. One of them lifted and absently rubbed along his right leg, and she watched, her gaze narrowing. "Are you alright?"

"I'm sick of everyone asking me that." He snapped, his hand sliding off her leg as he pulled back slightly. "I'm fine. I'm not mourning over anyone or anything and I am not distracting myself from-"

"Do I look like Wilson, House?" She finally snapped, interrupting his tirade. "I just saw you rubbing your leg, thought you might need to take a pill or something. God!" She jerked her foot out of his lap, and it hit the floor with a dull thud.

He glanced down at his hand, as if he hadn't even realized what he was doing. "I thought-"

"Yeah – when it comes to anything non-medical, you just really shouldn't do that. It doesn't matter." She sighed finally, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "It's late and I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She stood and he did too, following her out into the hall.

"Thanks for the invite Cuddy-" She rolled her eyes at him and pointed to her door.

"Out."

"But Cuddy-" He spoke in a soft whine and she just stared at him.

"Out."

"I thought we had that moment today-"

"You must have hallucinated it. Out."

"Is this anyway to treat a cripple?"

"God House get out! Go home! I need sleep. Lots and lots of it. You can resume torturing mt tomorrow, alright?" She spoke in a weary tone and he grinned briefly before finally turning to the door and reluctantly plodding out.

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" He turned at the door and she rolled her eyes before shutting it in his face. She dead bolted it and heard his chuckle on the other side. Resting her head against the door, she listened to the tell tale thump of him walking away before she sighed heavily, and dragged herself down to her bedroom, not even bothering to pick up the icepack that lay abandoned on the living room floor. Her last thoughts were of blue eyes and heated hands on cold skin as she fell into an exhausted sleep.


	10. Yellow

Her reflection didn't stare back at her in the glass, longing imposed over the tiny bodies that lay before her. She was secretly glad of the fact – she had no desire to see her own reaction to the small miracles behind the glass. She felt a hallow feeling pervade her chest as she inspected first one row and then the next of small bundles, pink then blue then blue again, three pinks and a whole row of blue. Another pink, two blues a pink and a yellow.

She frowned slightly looking in the far left hand corner of the room. Yellow was unusual. Yellow was wrong. They didn't ever dress newborns in yellow. Curiosity got the better of her and she tugged the door open, the cold metal twisting soundlessly under her hand. She paused for a moment as she swung the door open, assaulted by a wave of sound. The crying was loud, breathless sounds that made her gasp slightly. She quickly shut the door behind her, hoping the sound didn't permeate the hall outside.

She walked slowly to the back of the room, the screams hitting her in waves, each one twisting her heart just a bit more painfully. Her steps were slow, and she pushed her way to the yellow bassinet – her heart thundering in her ears. Each step seemed more and more difficult, like the air around her was a physical force, pushing her back. Babies she passed had their faces screwed up, red from crying. She was almost there now – and her hands were suddenly clammy – her heart beating so hard there was an ache in her sternum that she longed to rub away. The baby swathed in yellow was the exact counter part of every other baby there. Sleeping, perfect in it's repose – soft skin, and Cupid's bow mouth slightly open. Small nose and dark lashes sweeping against a plump cheek. Perfect. Her heart suddenly stopped it's frantic beating – and she held her breath, wondering if it would ever start again.

As if just realizing the noise around it, the baby startled awake – hands stretched out as if to display ten perfect fingers – each long and elegant. Eyes blinked open and she met the serious slate blue gaze – and odd disappointment coursing through her veins. She had expected something else.

There was no placard on the baby's bassinet – no cheerful disclaimer of 'It's a Boy!' or 'It's a Girl!', This baby was nameless, and completely anonymous. No hospital tag adorned it's tiny delicate wrist and she stared down at it with a slight frown – her mouth dry with sudden inescapable fear. The baby stared back at her, unblinking and sucking on the fingers it had managed to get into it's tiny mouth. Her eyes were suddenly covered in a film of tears and she felt a physical pain grip her, pooling in her chest cavity and pushing outward until she thought it would kill her. She gasped for breath, her hands gripping the warm plastic of the bassinet until it bit into her palms hard enough to leave a mark.

Her hand shook as she reached out slowly, her outstretched fingers reaching toward the soft skin of the baby. She closed her eyes tightly, shut them against the image of her desperate pale hand, shaking with fear as it slowly approached the curious stare of the child below her. Her fingers brushed soft fabric, and her eyes shot open as the crying in the room seemed to grow in her ears – echoing painfully against her eardrums. Her hand clutched only yellow blanket and she could smell baby powder in the air as panic settled in. Where had the baby gone?

Her heart kicked into high gear – each beat radiating through the pain as she fought to breathe. Where was the baby?! She looked around frantically but could only see a sea of blue and pink – a symphony of cries playing out in her head – her own mixed among them. She had taken too long – she had moved too slowly. The bile rose in her throat as sobs ripped from her body – bleeding her pain out onto the yellow blanket she had twisted in her hands and held to her face. It was too late.

* * *

She woke with a jerk – clammy skin tangled in bedsheets that threatened to suffocate her. With a choked sigh, she relaxed back against her pillow, staring blankly at her ceiling as the dream still gripped her. Absently she rubbed at her chest, where an ache still echoed, a ghost of a pain that wasn't even real. Dragging a hand over her face she glanced at the clock with a sigh. It was nine am and she was still exhausted. She had been at the hospital until almost four am – a donor had been brought in at seven in a car accident. It had been nasty – and she had contacted his family, helping the trauma team when she could. He had passed away at two am, and she had sat with his widow – a comforting arm and a steady shoulder. He had been a good man – a local business owner who gave profusely to quite a few charities.

When she had crawled into her bed at almost five she had felt physically sick with exhaustion. She had left a message for her assistant to push back her morning appointments – that she wouldn't be in until after ten – and now she lay here, awake before her alarm, her hand still rubbing against her aching sternum while snippets of the dream played back in her head. She sighed, knowing she needed to get up now anyway. The longer she waited, the more rushed she would feel. She dragged her sheets off of her, unwinding them from her legs and almost dragging herself across the sift carpet. She would need a lot of coffee today – she could tell.

She was brushing her hair when her cell phone rang – shrill and insisting. She frowned – it was almost nine thirty now and she had taken extra care with her makeup – hoping to hide the circles under her eyes. Her suit was selected to make her feel better – a purple and gray mix that made her feel softer than she really was.

"Cuddy." She spoke tiredly into the phone, pressing it against her shoulder as she bent down to slide her shoes on.

"Cuddy." His voice was rough, and laced with reluctance and she stood slowly, her senses on alert.

"House- I know it's almost ten, I know I'm not there for you to bother with whatever the hell you want right now but I'll be in in-"

"You're not at work?" He blurted out and she heard the surprise and odd traces of.. thankfulness? She grabbed her keys and her purse from the hall table, shooting a longing glance in the direction of her coffee pot before heading toward her door.

"No I didn't leave until four last night. Why? Aren't you there?" She was locking her front door as she spoke and she frowned at the phone trapped between her ear and shoulder. Rain was dripping down the back of her neck and she glared at the sky – wondering how she hadn't noticed that.

"Like I'm ever there before ten." Tension was laced through his lame attempt at humor and her frown deepened. "I need a ride."

Shock left her speechless for a moment. House never asked for favors – he never asked _her_ at any rate. She could hear his reluctance, and wondered at it. Why wasn't he calling Wilson? "Where's Wilson?"

"Unsuitable. Can't ride the bike and my car is... not an option." She was slightly damp as she slid behind the wheel and she blinked, finally able to identify his tone. Pain.

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready." She hung up quickly, pulling her seatbelt on as she gunned the engine, not waiting for it to heat up before switching gears and pulling out of her driveway quickly.

He was waiting on the curb for her and his movements were slow as he dropped is bag on the floor and slid into the passenger seat of her car. His face was contorted in pain and she stared at him with worried eyes. His hand rubbed along his thigh as he pushed his back into her car seat.

"Did something happen?" Her voice was soft and hesitant and he grimaced slightly before shaking his head no.

"Just getting worse." He ground out and she could see the tension in his frame as she watched him. She dug a hand into his coat pocket, past his keys until she felt the small yellow bottle. Pulling it out she glanced at him as she shook two out and handed them to him.

"When was your last dose?"

"An hour ago." He ground out and she looked at him seriously for a moment. That was too much – if he was still in pain-

"House, you need to get checked-"

"Yes Mother." He sneered back at her but she knew it was more anger at the pain itself than her.

"It shouldn't be spiking like this. Could be regeneration.." She trailed off, neither he nor she really believed it could be that – not after six years, but anything was possible. And anything was a better explanation than it just getting worse.

He chuckled, but it was bitter sound in the small confines of her car. "Oh they haven't shown up for six years – it would seem a bit bad taste to do it now, huh?" She rubbed a hand on her face and glared at him slightly. He avoided her gaze, staring out the window as his long fingers moved along his thigh nimbly. Now was not the time to push him. She slid the car back in gear, and pulled away from his house silently. Neither of them spoke on the short ride, and she glanced at him as she pulled into her parking spot.

"Stay here until the Vicodin kicks in." She commanded, reaching into her backseat for her briefcase and wishing she had an umbrella hidden back there too.

"You're not the boss of me." He mumbled and she looked over at him silently until he smiled slightly. "Fine."

"And I meant it about checking that-" He nodded and waved irritably and she closed her mouth. Not the time, pain was still evident in his tense stature, the way his free hand bit into the leather armrest, the tension in the line of his back. She placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment before dropping it quickly. "I'll leave the keys. Lock it when you're leaving please." He managed to nod and she slid out of the vehicle, looking down at him one more time before turning and running through the rain.

* * *

She headed for her office quickly, dropping her case and scanning her messages briefly. Four calls to return, but she decided to go out to the desk first, and check the patient files. Somewhere in the dash between the car and the foyer she had decided that a case was the best thing to distract him. So she headed straight back out to the main entrance after making sure her hair still looked decent, and standing there she rifled through the files at will. It needed to be a difficult case – an easy case would only annoy him. She looked at symptoms alone at first – pulling out three that could be a possibility. When she read the patient histories however, she smirked slightly. There was no competition. She turned with the winner in her hand when a nurse called her back and handed her the phone.

It was the widow from last night, calling to thank her for her personal attention. She leaned against the counter awkwardly – she was never comfortable with this kind of praise, but she couldn't seem to find a way out of not only accepting it but providing a fresh wave of comfort as well. She saw Wilson bustle by out of the corner of her eye, and when she glanced across the busy desk, he was standing next to House, a skeptical look on her face. They walked toward her, and she half listened to the women on the phone, and tried to listen to them at the same time.

"Infarctions hurt, that what they do." House was saying as he glanced up at her for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. She swallowed before waving the file to indicate he should stop, but he carried on as if she hadn't even done it. Covering the mouthpiece, she hissed his name, but he and Wilson continued as if she wasn't there. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the phone, expertly extricating herself from the conversation and keeping an eye on the two of them as she did so. Thankfully they stopped by the elevators and she was able to hang up the phone and head toward them.

"More pain, more pills" He was speaking sarcastically before taking the pill in his hand and she wanted to smack him. He'd taken a pill not an hour ago – if the pain was this bad- She left that particular though unfinished, instead holding out the file like a red flag.

"Teenage super model!" She spoke brightly and opened the file. "Presented with double vision, sudden aggressive behavior, cataplexy-" He looked up at the elevator as she spoke before looking back down and snatching the file from her hands.

"You had me at teenage super model." He limped into the elevator, his gait unsteady and she watched him go with a small triumphant smile. Beside her, Wilson sighed heavily as the doors slid shut behind him.

"I want him to have an MRI." Wilson stated, looking over at her with worry on his face. She nodded unsteadily, like her head wasn't quite attached to the rest of her body. She met his worried gaze and smiled reassuringly.

"If he comes to you – let me know and I'll clear the machine." She placed a comforting hand on his elbow - and nodded before turning her back and heading back to her office. The widow was coming in for coffee and she needed to get as much paperwork done as possible before she arrived. She made a mental note as she entered the office to have the University Chaplain present for the meeting – it would help with the arrangements. When she entered her office she pulled her paperwork toward her as she picked up her phone to make the calls.

* * *

When she headed to House's office in the evening she moved soundlessly through the halls. She had survived the day – barely – on enough caffeine to kill a small animal and sheer determination. She hadn't blinked when she had singed approval for a twenty four hour detox for House's model. She had sailed through her morning coffee with a comforting shoulder and a box of tissues, used liberally. She had worked through lunch – and again through dinner, her appetite non existent in wake of the massive amounts of coffee. Every now and then she would find her hand lingering along her sternum and she would snatch it away quickly. When she finally turned her office light off the clinic was dark, and she was convincing herself that she wasn't _avoiding_ going home by coming up here – logically she had driven House here, she should drive him home. It was just a dream.

When she entered his office, he was laying in the Eames chair, a pillow under his foot and his head back and eyes closed. He wasn't asleep though, she could tell by his breathing pattern. His face was pale – the line sin it seeming that much more deeply etched and she wanted to run a hand over his face, and smooth them away. Control kept her hand at her side though. "House." Her voice was soft and he opened his eyes immediately.

"Knew it was you. Could smell you." His voice was laced with pain and she crouched beside his chair looking up at him in concern.

"You need a ride?" He looked down at her before turning away from her swiftly. His hand rested on his thigh and she could see he wanted to rub it, but was trying to stop himself. Her own hand came up to her chest, before she realized what she was doing and placed it on his other knee.

"Didn't you only get four hours sleep last night? Why are you so late?" He turned to her, apparently trying to distract her – or him – from the pain. He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her intently for a moment. "You look like crap."

"Yeah well, you're no prize either." She spoke, standing and handing him his cane from where it rested against the wall. He took it from her hand, his knuckles white as he gripped it tightly for a moment before standing up. She grabbed his bag and handed it to him after he stood slowly. "Come on. Nothing you can do for your model until morning. I'll take you home." He was uncharacteristically silent as they stopped in her office before exiting to the parking lot. When she glanced over at his face and saw the slight sheen of sweat from the effort, she knew why. She didn't say anything, driving in silence and pulling up to his house before speaking. "Do you need any-"

"No!" he snapped out before she could finish and she nodded, knowing she shouldn't have asked in the first place. An awkward silence filled the car as his white knuckled grip on his cane seemed to turn slightly blue. "Are you not sleeping?" His eyes met hers for a moment and she saw they were clouded with pain, and a longing as well. She didn't mention either as she sighed softly.

"House.."

"What? Everyone can ask me about my pain, but if you look like crap and haven't been sleeping it's a taboo subject?" He spoke snidely and she shook her head slightly as if to clear it.

"No." She spoke softly in the dark interior of the car, lit only by the dashboard lights – giving the whole conversation an unreal feel. "I just don;t want to talk about it." she knew if she mentioned the dream he would latch on and chew until he knew what it was about. And the sad meaning of said dream was obvious even to her – he'd have a field day with it. He watched her for a moment, before nodding softly in the green light. His hand moved to the door – apparently he had mustered up enough strength for the walk to his door and she watched him apprehensively. "Do you need a ride- tomorrow-" He shook his head shortly.

"I'll be fine." Her car door fell shut heavily after him and she sat and watched as he went inside – like he knew she would. Once the door shut behind him, she sighed softly before heading toward her own dark house – filled with her own worries and fears. Sleep would not be easy that night either.

* * *

She had not tried to find House that morning when he skipped out on clinic duty, forcing her to cover for him – but she had stayed in her office afterward trying to finish up paperwork. She had slept badly again last night – the dream back and if possible more vivid. She didn't want to think about it – so really the amount of work she was doing was perfectly fine with her. She needed the distraction. She was halfway through her pile when her phone rang at her elbow.

"Cuddy."

"I need the machine cleared." Wilson was speaking low and she sighed in relief. House had finally agreed to the MRI. Which of course, meant that he was in God knew how much pain. She frowned, motioning Brenda through the doors as she spoke to Wilson.

"Not a problem, I can get that done for you right now." Covering the receiver she looked at Brenda with her best 'say nothing' face. "I need the MRI machine emptied for approximately half an hour. Starting in fifteen minutes, got it?" Brenda nodded and exited quickly – not asking any questions. She was the most discreet nurse in the entire hospital. She uncovered the phone and looked down at her desk blotter. "Fifteen minutes. Can you get him up there-" She broke off as she saw Cameron coming through the outer office and she cursed inwardly.

"I'll have him there by then. Thanks Cud-" Cameron was inside now, having burst in without knocking and she looked away quickly.

"Find a way to kick up the contribution." She spoke, hearing Wilson's laughter as she hung up with a sigh. It was a lame cover – and wasn't necessary but for some reason, she knew if House thought any of his team had even gotten wind of this – so she ignored Wilson's laughed and stared across at the obviously distraught doctor. "What did House do now?"

"The patient's father sexually abused her and he's refusing to report it to the proper authority's." Before Cameron even finished speaking, she could feel a headache coming on – sudden pounding pain behind her temples and she put her hands there now.

"Did he give a reason?" She spoke tiredly and Cameron looked further angered by the question.

"He said that she's dying and he needs him here in case there's anything else the father isn't telling us." If possible Cameron sounded more offended than usual by this and she shook her head tiredly. She knew House tended to put patient interest ahead of everything else, rules especially and apparently now the law.

"I'll call social services." She picked up the phone as Cameron nodded and left, looking both pleased with herself and apprehensive at the same time.

* * *

She found them in the middle of the MRI, alarms going off as she entered the room. Rather appropriately but she ignored them, and Wilson seated in the other room. "House!"

"Quick God, smite the evil witch!" House was speaking for what she only assumed was Wilson's benefit but she didn't let him distract her as she stood by the MRI machine. Her headache was throbbing now – and she had the lovely visit from the police to look forward to later. In pain or not, she was about ready to put him into more.

"Are you sitting on evidence that your patient was sexually abused by her father?" She asked incredulously, already knowing the answer but hoping he'd called someone and had just told Cameron he wouldn't to piss her off.

"God, why have you forsaken me?" He spoke from inside the MRI and she was fairly certain she heard muffled laughter from Wilson behind her, but she didn't look.

"Don't worry. I have contacted child services _for you_." She spoke sarcastically, her hands at her sides. "I let you get away with more than anyone at this hospital! Shielding a child abuser isn't covered. Cooperate with this investigation or I'll have you fired." She glared at the machine one last time before turning on her heel and exiting the room quickly. She had a meeting with child services in an hour. Rubbing a hand along her head, she prayed silently that whatever the hell was wrong with House's leg was fixable – she didn't know how much more she could deal with.

* * *

The mid afternoon light was suffocated by her blinds as she sat on the couch , pretending to work on the files laying haphazardly on the table in front of her. She lay back, her head resting wearily against the sofa when Wilson burst into her office. She frowned, he was limping slightly and glaring at her like it was her fault. Sitting up quickly, she idly wondered if anyone would knock today.

"He hit me!" Wilson exclaimed, throwing himself into the arm chair beside her and she arched a brow in confusion. "The MRI was normal. And I simply _suggested_ that it might be psychological-"

"Conversion disorder Wilson?" She spoke in a disappointed tone.

"You think it's just a coincidence that all of this is happening right after Stacy leaves-" He spoke in a disbelieving tone and she shook her head.

"It doesn't have anything to do with Stacy." she spoke in a sure tone and he shook his head at her in wonder.

"Do you two practice these lines together? That's what he said – right before _attacking_ me and accusing me of missing Stacy too!" She bit her lip at this, staring at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"You really think this is all in his head Wilson? Haven't you been watching him the past two days? He can barely walk-"

"The power of the mind Cuddy. If he _believes_ the pain is there – he feels it. I'm not saying the pain isn't real – it's just not his _leg_." She watched him silently for a moment, her mind turning over what he had said. She almost wanted him to be right. The alternative was that House was getting worse, and she didn't want to consider that. It whispered in her mind, presenting one horrible possibility after the other.

"I don't know-" She had seen his face last night – not Wilson. It was her he had called in the first place and she wasn't sure even his twisted mind could torture him this badly. Wilson also thought this had everything to do with Stacy and she privately doubted that as well. "It doesn't matter either way, Wilson. What can you do?"

"He won't come to me now Cuddy. He won't ask me to help." Wilson sat up, staring at her seriously. "He'll come to _you_."

"House would never ask me for-" She protested but he shook his head emphatically.

"Yes, he would. He trusts you. He'll ask you for help – and all I'm saying is.. let him _think_ you helped him." She caught his meaning all too clearly and she drew in a sharp breath.

"A placebo- Wilson-" If he was in pain ... it was cruel at best.

"Just.. think about it Cuddy." he spoke softly, patting her hand lightly before standing and exiting the office – leaving her to her confused thoughts, and even more confusing fears. She couldn't let House get worse. And she wasn't entirely sure why it was so important to her – but as she thought it she closed her eyes tightly and saw yellow.

* * *

She was turning off her office lights, enjoying the way each click plunged the room in that much more darkness when she heard his steps behind her. She was surprised by how long he held out actually – she had thought he would be here much earlier than this. But House was nothing if not stubborn – and probably avoiding her after the child services debacle anyway. Her headache had slowly increased all afternoon until she finally broke down and took pain relief for it. The pain was still there, but a manageable shadow in her mind.

"I need a favor." His voice was rough, and she heard Wilson's echo in her ears as he spoke. '_He trusts you.'_ She sighed softly – she didn't want to be the one to do this. She turned to him, her face neutral, and her eyes pleading.

"I'm not in a giving mood." The only light entering the room now was from the lit hall beyond it. She picked up her briefcase and walked toward the door, refusing to meet his eyes which were sure to be filled with pain.

"It'll help us both. I need a shot of morphine in my spine." She drew in a quick breath. She knew he would ask – she knew it would be drugs. But morphine?

"Sub arachnoid morphine is extreme House – even for you." She walked past him with a look, and he glanced down at the floor. "Get one of your lackey's to do it." She spoke in a soft tone. She wanted the decision to lay out of her hands. She wanted to believe Wilson was wrong. She didn't want to choose.

"I don't want them to know-" he turned to her as she moved past him, pulling her coat off the rack. "-how much pain I'm in." He sounded more pained than ever to admit this and she watched him silently. They'll question my judgment. I can't ask Wilson because-" He paused for a moment, his eyes wavering from hers to the cane in his hand before reconnecting with hers. "I just can't."

Her coat lining was cold on her arms and she shook her head slowly. "It's too dangerous. I'm going home." She tried to move away but the clatter of his cane hitting the floor froze her in place. His hands shook as his fingers fumbled with the buckle at his waist. Her eyes widened as she watched him, unable to breathe. "What are you doing?" She walked over to him quickly, stilling his hands with her own.

"It hurts Cuddy – you need to see-" His hands struggled against hers until she let go, nodding. Her hands reached out, pushing his aside as she undid the belt nimbly. She moved him over to the sofa – him leaning heavily on her as she walked slowly. Once there, she pulled his pants down before seating him and inspecting his leg carefully as she kneels between his legs. It was swollen – raised and and slight redness around the area. She pressed against it gently and heard his hiss of air escaping his lungs as hi hand gripped her shoulder tightly.

"Are you sure you didn't hit it at all? There's more redness than usual." her calm gaze met his troubled one and he looked thoughtful for a moment as she waited. It had never bothered her, examining him. She did it often in the days after the surgery – it had truly been painful to look at then – like it carved the same shape into her own heart.

"I don't- I don't remember." He glanced down at his leg as if for the first time. His eyes narrowed as he studied the surface he knew by heart, running his hand lightly over it – as if feeling for confirmation of her words. His eyes met hers again and he nodded.

"I'll go get a syringe." Her voice was soft in the dark and he nodded again as she used the couch to push herself up. Shrugging off her coat – she stepped out of the office and walked along the hall to the pharmacy. She hesitated once there – clearing her throat twice as the pharmacist looked at her like she was insane. She had to decide. '_Let him think you helped him. He trusts you.' _ She bit her lip, remembering his face in her office and his eyes as she said no. _'It hurts Cuddy-'_

"I need an 21 gauge with one milligram of morphine." She spoke the words quickly, not looking at him as he nodded and went into the back. While he was gone she went into the shelves, gathering iodine and lidocane and a saline needle as well. She was back around the other side when he reappeared with the syringe. Taking it, she signed the sheet provided before returning to her office quickly. She closed the door and closed her blinds, plunging the room back into darkness.

"Mood lighting. Nice." House's voice issued dryly from the sofa and she sighed, turning on a small lamp next to him. When the light came on he blinked and grinned weakly – she was leaning right in front of him to reach the lamp and he was staring at her appreciatively.

"Lay down, back to me." He complied, curling into the couch easily since his pants were still in a heap on the floor. He had also shrugged out of his jacket, leaving just his shirt on. She ripped open the iodine cloth quickly, speaking around it as she did so. "Why is it that I am always giving you drugs lately?" She muttered as she pulled down his underwear slightly, pressing along his spine and counting vertebrates.

"Because you're a good friend." He answered, his amusement laced with pain and she chuckled as she wiped the area. She injected the lidocane first, waiting a moment for it to take effect and numb the area. House scoffed beneath her hands. "I didn't need the numbing-"

'Oh yeah, because it's a total picnic having a 21 gage needle driven through your dura is always fun. Shut up House. Curve." She muttered, taking out the saline needle and waiting for him to arch his back before using it to locate the epidural space. When the needle slid in and injected a small amount of saline, she reached in her pocket for the morphine needle. Removing the saline needle, she kept her eyes on the prick and slid the needle in quickly, pushing past the epidural space and injecting the morphine.

His hiss of relief was immediate and she felt him relax within seconds under her hands. "How much?" His voice was looser now – more relaxed as he straightened his back. She wiped the area clear of iodine and put a hand on his shoulder.

"One milligram. Lay still for a minute – then you have to get dressed." She spoke swiftly and he rolled on his back, his eyes closed in appreciation. She observed his breathing carefully.

"Thank you Cuddy." His voice was serious and she felt the pain return in her chest briefly before she shook it off and stood, disposing of the needles and pulling her coat back on.

"Come on. Time to go." He looked at her in confusion and she glared down at him. "You're either coming home with me. Morphine can cause respiratory distress-" He was sitting up and pulling his pants on slowly, before standing and buckling them as he pulled a face at her.

"I went to medical school too you know-"

"Good." she handed him his cane after he had pulled his jacket on. "Then you won't argue with me. You can't be left alone tonight." He smiled hazily at her, nodding surprisingly before following her back out of the office.

* * *

The dream woke her up again – breathing erratically and clutching her sheets in tight hands. She blinked for a moment, allowing the panic to wash off of her as she sat up in her bed. It was the third night in a row and she was tired of waking in a panic, her heart physically hurting as she cursed her inability to sleep. She dropped her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry as she fought for a calm demeanor.

"So _this_ is why you're not sleeping." House's voice spoke from her doorway and she jumped guiltily before glaring at him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" She snapped out wearily and he moved further into the room at her words. He sat on the other side of her bed, bracing his leg with his hands as he swung it up on the bed and sank against her headboard, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He spoke back mockingly, watching carefully, his eyes dropping to her chest. She glanced down, seeing her own hand rubbing there, and snatched it back quickly. "What did you dream about?" When he broke the tense silence his voice was casual and she sank back against the headboard as well, suddenly exhausted.

"No." She spoke in a surprisingly strong voice and his eyes widened. "I'm not doing this. This- this _thing_ where you dig and dig until you find out what's wrong and then what? Trust me House – you can't fix my problems and I am_ perfectly_ aware of what they are." Her voice was bitter and he frowned at her as she stared off through her bedroom window. Her arms and chest still seemed to ache and she shook her head slightly. She was out of time and suddenly longing for things out of her reach. He could help with none of it, and she blamed turning forty this year. She had put her career first before everything for years – and now she was finally paying the price.

His hands pulling on her shoulders were unexpected and she sank against him easily. His arms were warm as he held her, and for once he didn't say anything – inappropriate or otherwise. She listened to his lungs and heart as her head lay against his chest – and although she told herself that it was purely medical concern, they both knew it was more. Something between them that was almost a third presence at all times. She breathed in deeply, smelling iodine and spice and soap, her hands wrapping around his waist despite her best efforts. It was comforting – even if it was a word you wouldn't normally associate with him.

They slid down more, a mutual decision they reached without speaking. As she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent – she fell asleep to the sound of his heart and dreamt of yellow blankets again. But this time, the touch of skin met her hand, and she felt the weight of the small baby, welcome in her arms as she smiled down at him.


	11. Speechless

A/N: Review. Because you all have no earthly idea how long this one took. Mean chapter.

* * *

They didn't talk about it – like their many little moments, it was swept aside under a film of awkward banter and genuine anger. He wasn't there when she woke up – she hadn't expected him to be. When she finally saw him at work – after he had solved the case, he hadn't thanked her and she hadn't reciprocated. They just acted as if nothing had happened, because in reality nothing had.

A needle, trust, a comforting presence – none of these were earth shattering occurrences. So when he went on as normal – she agreed silently and pretended like nothing in her world had shifted and slid twenty degrees to the left. He mocked his team and avoided clinic duty, she chased him and tried to convince him to forgive Wilson. She didn't think about the dream and what it meant. She tried not to lay in bed at night and remember just what it felt like to have a warm body next to her. If she were honest with herself – which she almost never was – she would admit that it wasn't just any warm body.

He bitched about Wilson and she listened – pointing out that Wilson had tried to be a good friend, in his own screwed up way. Wilson came to her and complained about House not being able to let go and she pointed out that if Wilson was wrong – which of course Wilson didn't agree with but he stayed silent anyway and listened – that House had every right to be upset. Finally she had cornered the two of them, snapping that she wasn't their couples therapist and to work it out and leave her the hell alone. That had shut both of them up and the next day they had resumed their lunches where House ate almost everything Wilson had and Wilson mocked him gently.

She was glad to finally have peace of mind. Wilson didn't bother her so much – however having House barging into her office five times more than usual daily because his usual playdate wasn't acceptable did bother her. Especially in light of her own recent emotional discoveries. Recent emotional discovery sounded a lot less threatening to her than calling it what it was. Longing. For something – and someone – she really couldn't afford to be longing for right now. Less contact was key and in that vein she forced House and Wilson to make up – and they did. But it still didn't seem to be helping any.

"He thinks I'm having an affair!" It was apparently Wilson's turn to burst in and she tried to cover her sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair with a frown and an arched brow. Wilson was standing in front of her desk, waving and gold box around like a weapon as he spoke angrily. "Does everything have to be about sex? Can I buy my wife chocolates and _not_ have it mean I'm guilty?!" She watched him with concern – Wilson normally took everything House said in stride – and his reaction was worrying her more than anything else.

"Wilson-" She spoke to cut off his tirade, waving a hand at her chair. "Sit down before you hurt yourself. What is going on?" She asked softly and he stared at her dumbly before speaking.

"I told you! House thinks he's always right about everything – _of course _Wilson is cheating because _of course_ that's what he does! He can't stay loyal! He couldn't possibly just actually care about his wife-"

"No." She interrupted firmly and he stopped speaking. "This isn't like you to get so upset about something House said. It's House! He's an ass. I meant what is going on with you? Is everything okay?"

He appeared speechless for a moment, coloring and staring at her silently as his grip on the chocolate box tightened. Finally he dropped his gaze, mumbling. "Thank you, Lisa. But everything is fine." The fact that he called her Lisa told her that everything was far from fine, but she let it go with a silent sigh.

"I don't believe you, but I'm not going to push. As for House – just ignore him Wilson. The more you react to him, the more he'll poke." Wilson nodded, dropping the box in his lap and flexing his fingers slightly.

"You're right. Of course you're right. I just wish-" He sounded almost wistful for a moment before shaking his head dully. "Hey – did you want to grab lunch today?" He smiled as he spoke, trying to shake off his earlier melancholy.

"Did House cancel?" She frowned at him and he shook his head.

"No – I thought you'd like to join us." She shook her head quickly and he frowned.

"No – you know I have this thing- a meeting and I-"

"Are you avoiding him?" Wilson sounded genuinely amused by the thought and she laughed it off slightly.

"No!" She protested lightly. "God, no." She laughed, hoping he would buy it, but his eyes narrowed and a smile came across his face. Most people would mistake it for a friendly smile. She knew him better – at least she thought she did.

"Then you'll join us." She nodded, accepting defeat gracefully. "Good. Because we're all _friends_ right?" He spoke in a jovial tone and she glared at him slightly.

"Of course we are." She smiled tightly and he nodded, picking up his box and standing.

"Good. I'll let House know. I'll see you at noon Cuddy. Have a good morning." He strode out of her office, apparently distracted from whatever his own problems were. At least that made one of them.

* * *

They were waiting for her, sitting stiffly uncomfortable across the table from each other and leaving the two chairs beside them empty. She frowned, watching Wilson stab at his salad passive aggressively while House watched with a grin. She walked up to the table and dropped her tray with a bang, startling them both. Sitting down she glared at each of them in turns, twisting her water open roughly.

"I said no more therapy, so kiss and make up or I am leaving." They rolled their eyes but both of them nodded and she poured dressing on her own salad before picking up her fork. "How's the patient?" She spoke to House who shrugged slightly, glancing at her over his Reuben.

"He had a flash pulmonary edema _about_.." He glanced at his watch, squinting as he spoke around a mouthful of sandwich, "Thirty five minutes ago. Blood everywhere – really nasty. The kids are stabilizing him now, and then we can figure out what the hell caused that – it sure as hell wasn't syphilis if you know what I mean." She wrinkled her nose is disgust listening to him, but Wilson merely shrugged and nodded, continuing to eat. She took a longer sip of water and pushed her salad around on her plate listlessly.

"How.. interesting." She frowned at him severely and he chuckled, taking another bite of his food.

"How was your meeting?" Wilson politely inquired – but the gleam in his eye spoke differently. "Did it get moved up?"

"What meeting?" House was again speaking with a full mouth and she glared at him while he shrugged unapologetically.

"The meeting she made up to avoid having lunch with us." Wilson spoke promptly and she transferred her glare to him quickly, wondering what the chances were of her accidentally hitting House when she kicked Wilson. Given that she was on House's right – she didn't chance it.

"Why didn't you want to have lunch with us?" House turned to her, speaking through his food again as she rolled her eyes.

"I can't imagine why. Your table manners are impeccable, by the way." He swallowed and looked slightly offended, opening his mouth to speak again. "How's your leg?" She asked quickly – preventing him from saying.. whatever it was that he was about to say and now it was his turn to glare at her.

"Better." He answered as Wilson made a scoffing noise from her right. House looked at him for a moment and she decided to change the subject quickly.

"Good." She smiled brightly and her mind scrambled for a topic that they could discuss without killing one another. "Um.. so there's-"

"Oh stop." House snapped at her and she snapped her mouth shut. "Why do you always have to try to make everyone play nice? He thinks the pain is in my head, I think he's diddling the ICU nurse – what's important is why _you're_ avoiding us. Or him. Or me." He narrowed his gaze on her and she flushed uncomfortably, taking a bite of salad just to occupy herself. She chewed slowly, not responding as Wilson smirked from his spot.

"She didn't seem like she was avoiding _me_ this morning." He added helpfully and she imagined stabbing him with her fork for a moment – staying silent.

"Better watch yourself Wilson, that's her violent look. So you were avoiding me then. Well that's easy – I know why." He spoke surely and she glared at him again, but still not answering either of them.

"Why?" Wilson asked with curiosity.

"Well I can't tell _you _Wilson." House mocked him lightly, before finishing off his sandwich and balling the wrapper up. "Are you going to finish that?" He pointed to the pudding on her tray and she shrugged, shaking her head in the negative. He snatched it, grabbing her spoon at the same time.

"No but it's sugar-" He took a bite, before making a horrible face and swallowing, grabbing her water bottle and taking a drink. "Free." She finished lamely, laughing slightly.

"Good god woman, how can you actually _eat_ that crap?"

"Why is she avoiding you?!" Wilson broke in from the other side of her and they both turned to look at him with a confused expression.

"Why does it mean so much to you Wilson? See my theory is you want to think of anyone's problems but your own – so in a delusional effort to not feel guilty about the bad sex or almost sex or _thoughts_ about sex with someone other than your wife – you're reading too much into it. Maybe she wasn't hungry. Maybe she just hates me on Tuesdays. Maybe it's-" He leaned forward conspiratorially and dropped his voice to a whisper. "_That time of the month_."

"Maybe you're an ass." She finally spoke, dropping her napkin on her plate and glancing at her water distastefully.

"Or it could be that after that mind blowing sex last week – she just can't look at me without jumping me. Wanna know where her other hand is?" House spoke loudly and she quickly put both hands on top of the table.

"I hate you." She glared at him as she muttered and he smiled back at her, their eyes meeting for a moment. She held her breath and he didn't move for a suspended moment, while Wilson watched them dubiously from across the table.

"I hate you too." He answered quickly, grinning as he spoke and Wilson choked slightly, causing them both to glare at him.

"If that's what the kids are calling it these days." He muttered to himself, and she stood quickly, picking up her tray haughtily.

"Why House, thank you so much for volunteering for clinic tomorrow." She spoke sweetly and he glared up at her.

"I didn't-"

"Oh yes you did. Or alternately I can send every case up to you that I deem appropriate – I _was_ going to walk down to the ER today – and I _could-_"

"Oh shut up. Fine. You make one little remark about doing the Dean-" He muttered across to Wilson who merely rolled his eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. She leaned down, holding her tray in front of her as she brought her mouth within inches of his ear.

"In your dreams." He turned to look at her with amusement, his eyes traveling down to her chest with a smirk.

"Every night."

"Yeah I have _no_ idea why the entire hospital thinks you two are sleeping with each other." Wilson spoke, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. "There's absolutely no evidence of _that_!" She straightened up with a glare, before turning and sailing out of the cafeteria, sliding her tray into the trolley by the door on her way. She hated when Wilson was right. And this – this bubbly, warm tingly feeling residing in her lower stomach – was exactly why she needed to avoid House in the first place.

"Stupid Wilson."

* * *

It was almost ten thirty when she finally moved from her desk – leaning back and stretching before sliding her feet back into her shoes and pushing away from her desk slowly before standing. Her shoulders ached – and she felt a hollow sort of exhaustion but her mind was slowly trudging through her mental to do list – making sure she hadn't forgotten anything as she pushed files into her case and grabbed her keys from her top drawer.

"Oh good you're still here." House came in silently – out of the bright light of day he tended not to burst in so much as sneak by. He still never knocked in either case tough – so there was little difference.

"No. I'm not still here." She spoke quickly, heading toward her coat tree and pulling on her jacket gingerly.

"I need a heart."

"Tell me about it." She muttered wincing as she pulled her coat over her shoulders, and surprised when his hands brushed her own aside and helped. She turned in surprise once he was finished and looked at him with a groan. "Oh God. You aren't serious are you? Your patient is sixty six House – the committee will never approve it-"

"But they might." He stressed, looking down at her somberly. "He deserves the chance. I need a heart." She sighed softly, looking at him with a small frown while shaking her head.

"I'll convene the committee tomorrow morning – but House – you can't seriously expect anything to come of this- you need to find another way." Her voice was soft and he frowned down at the carpet for a moment.

"There is no other way. His heart's half dead – and even I can't fix that." She nodded – she had gone over his patient file not fifteen minutes before – her eyes sliding around the word infarction because it hurt to look at it there, black and white and painful. He wanted to fix someone.

"How's Wilson?" She softly changed the subject and he rolled his eyes at her as he held open her office door.

"He's going to tell her. He always does – he thinks it makes him a better husband." She was silent in response – wondering if perhaps there was a bit more to it this time. Wilson understood his own flaws – he even used them to his advantage at times. This time seemed different – but it wasn't her place to say. "Are we gonna talk about why you're avoiding me?"

"I'm with you right now." She pointed out and he simply looked at her in response. She sighed heavily as she pushed the doors open and they escaped into the mild spring night. "I thought you knew, Obi Wan."

"I have an idea – but I've been known to be wrong." He was following her to her car again, her slightly slower not quite so faithful shadow.

"When?" She retorted quickly, clutching her keys so tightly the metal bit into her hand. "Nothing needs to be discussed. I'm not avoiding you. I'm just... I needed a break." His eyes were tracking her now, roaming over her face, past where she was chewing on her lip slightly and down to her hands, white and trembling. She knew he noticed every single one of these things, but when his eyes met hers, he must have seen some hidden warning there because he simply nodded and stopped walking beside her. She faltered for a moment, before pressing forward, feeling his eyes on her form every step of the way. They did not say goodbye or wave or call over their shoulders at each other – but he did watch her until her car was in reverse and she was sliding out of her parking spot. As she drove home, her hands still shook and she imagined he could see her even then with those eyes.

* * *

The dreams were back again – stealing her sleep and pervading her waking thoughts as well. They were less nightmarish now. More like vivid dreams of the future – reading books about trucks to a little boy with bright inquisitive eyes. Brushing a little girls hair as she talked animatedly about what she did in school that day. Holding a toddler close and inhaling the scent of baby soap and innocence. The images haunted her, and she honestly thought she had never wanted something so – desperately in her entire life.

She would stare off at the walls around her, seeing images superimposed over her current surroundings – toys strewn across a floor – papers with scribbles hanging on her fridge. Laughter and sound and life echoing through the halls of her home. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad she could see it. Feel it. None of it was enough though – and she would blink suddenly taking in the stark floors and the echoing silence that seemed to magnify.

It was the first time in her life she had a goal and absolutely no idea of how to attain it. She had fought hard for everything in her life – she had a plan going into university for the first time – a plan that worked. She had a plan when she decided she would be the youngest Dean of Medicine ever. Both times she had fallen just short of her goals – but she had achieved them never the less. She wanted a plan for this too. She wanted an idea – a course to follow so she didn't suddenly feel adrift – with no course to plot.

She tried to scrub the images away from her mind, but they clung stubbornly – brown curls and blue eyes. Small chubby arms wound around her neck, refusing to let go. So she lost sleep and drank too much coffee, and fought her way out of the bed in the morning – wishing all the while that she wasn't alone doing it.

She tried to distract her mind while at work, first with files and then with House's patient. She wondered what it was about this man – every now and then House had certain patient's that he latched on to. He actually interacted with them – something about those patients drew him in. She thought it might be the infarction, but House had shown interest before that. She sighed silently as she headed up to the meeting room, a file clutched in her hand. When she finally made it up there, she slid into her seat beside Dr. Simpson, who leaned over her to pick up his paperwork, his arm _accidentally_ brushing across her breasts as she rolled her eyes. He was two years from retirement and a pervert – but he had been on the board forever and was for the most part only mildly annoying. He had also voted with her to give up Vogler's money – and she didn't forget that.

House was five minutes late when he limped in, sitting before them to present the patient case, speaking calmly and rationally as she played with the edge of the patient file and listened. "He's a prime candidate for transplant – doesn't smoke. Drinks moderately. His tox screen is negative for illegal drugs, and legal ones. Surveillance blood culture show absolutely no sign of any lingering brucella bacteria."

"He's sixty six years old." She checked the fact in the file she had been abusing and spoke in a calm tone. She had to bring it up so he could argue it, and she held her breath, praying that he would argue it objectively and not-

"Told me he was sixty five. Liar. I'm out of here." He spoke dryly and she sighed inaudibly.

"There is an inverse correlation between patient age and success rates-" Simpson spoke beside her and she slid her gaze over to him knowing just from the look on the other man's face that this was going nowhere fast.

"He's in excellent health, this is is his first hospitalization since breaking his leg at twenty three. Or twenty two. I'm not sure anymore." He added sarcastically and she wanted to reach across the room and smack him. This was not the way to advocate for his patient – but perhaps he knew it didn't matter what he said.

"If the patient were to survive the operation he'll get what? Another five, ten, maybe twenty years if he's very lucky?" Simpson spoke pompously from beside her and she stared at him for a beat, slightly aghast. Others were listening intently, nodding and she gripped the file harder in her hands.

"So you're saying that old people aren't as worth saving as young people?" House spoke harshly and she sighed, knowing that she had to say something to draw him back, if possible.

"He's saying that hearts are a scarce resource." She spoke matter of factly. She wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. "We obviously have to choose criteria-" She leaned back as she spoke, her cold fingers releasing the file and tingling slightly as blood rushed back into them.

"No I get it." House interrupted in a scathing tone. "Women live longer so they should get preference right?" She frowned at him slightly but he ignored the warning, plunging ahead regardless. "And African Americans, they die a lot younger so to hell with them."

"What you think you're going to win me over by calling me a racist?" Simpson drew himself up indignantly and she sat up slowly, watching the disaster unfold.

"If the test is who gets to use it longest you can either be a racist or a hypocrite." House snapped back, leaning forward as he spoke.

"Your patient had a life. A family. We have got eighteen year old kids who only-" Simpson was defensive now and House stared at him thoughtfully, a gleam in his eyes. She opened her mouth to stop him but he was already speaking before she could.

"How old are you _doctor_? When do we get to toss you onto the ice flow?" She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep the smile down and her face serious.

"And thank you Doctor House." She spoke quickly, her voice resigned as she glanced around the room. Nothing unexpected had happened in this room today – but then no one had thought it would, not even him. "Unless anyone else has any questions, we will now go into private session." She closed the file as she spoke, glancing up at House as she did so. His eyes when they met hers were slightly accusatory and she glanced away. There was nothing she could have done.

"Oh I'm on pins and needles." He spoke bitingly as he slid his cane from the top of the table in front of him. "I wonder how you'll decide." He stood swiftly, limping out of the room and she ran a hand over the back of her neck, avoiding his glare as he left the room. Like she needed the extra guilt – she couldn't have done anything anyway.

* * *

The rest of her day after the devastatingly brief decision was spent working on paperwork and avoiding any possible contact with House and his patient. She already had the hot guilt sitting in her chest, twisting there painfully, tightening effortlessly. Brenda poked her head in earlier to let her know that Cameron was stalking the DOA's in the ER and she smiled, the pressure easing slightly.

It was almost four hours later when she saw an agitated man yanking open the outer door to her office, with House right behind him. She glanced longingly at her top drawer – where a bottle of extra strength Advil lay – knowing instinctively that she would need it after this.

"He stopped my wife from dying!" The man spoke in an angered tone and She frowned in confusion for a moment. House had arrived now, limping up to the desk and gripping the back of the chair as Brenda sailed past him, dropping a file on her desk and leaving again. Sometimes she thought Brenda was psychic – whatever she was she was indispensable. "She's dead – and I just want to let her go in peace, he has no right-" She listened, her eyes scanning the file before lifting to meet House's with a frown.

"I have every right. I'm a doctor. You cannot take her off the ventilator-"

"Mr. Neuberger has every right to take his wife off the ventilator-" She began calmly, glancing over at the man in question as she addressed House.

"His wife signed an organ donor card." House pointed out quickly.

"Which became invalid when her organs were turned down." She shot back quickly, trying not to look at her husband, who was standing there looking confused and agitated. This was no way to talk about his wife in front of him, but as usual House didn't seem to care.

"I can use them! I just need some time!" House was pleading – to her or the husband she wasn't sure but the sight of him arguing for his patient so whole heartedly rendered her speechless for a moment. "Committee says they won't take her heart. Another committee says a guy can't have a heart. It's a marriage made in heaven-" He had turned to the husband first before turning back to her imploringly. She watched with a frown – seeing his words affect the husband and wondering what in the hell was so special about this patient again. It was unusual. "I can find a surgical team that can do this. Classify it as experimental, so it won't screw with any numbers." She tried to keep the shock off her face – House arguing numbers was a foreign concept. "This is what she wanted!" He had turned back to the husband, his voice rising. "She wanted her organs to help another-"

"She never wanted to be kept alive on a ventilator!" The husband argued, looking slightly ill at the thought and she sighed softly.

"She's not, she's dead! She's not in pain, she's not suffering it's just her.. meat we're dealing with here." House kept glancing at her during this, as if he couldn't quite stand to look Donald Neuberger in the eyes as he talked about his wife that way. She felt her stomach sink – a real anger replacing the slight hope. Why on earth would he think this approach would work? She stood quickly, feeling a sudden need to move as Donald stared at House in shock.

"This is my wife!" His voice was low and rough and House slid his eyes over to her again and she thought she saw a slight flash of guilt there.

"Not anymore." He responded and she watched carefully, waiting.

"She deserves some respect, some dignity." Donald insisted.

"I respect the living." House snapped back, both of them fully ignoring her now.

"Right, that's why you made me think you were her doctor. Made me believe that maybe there was some hope-" She felt her stomach sink further at his words. What had House done? House ran an agitated hand over his face, looking at her quickly before answering.

"I never said I was her doctor." He spoke tiredly and she felt an odd weight settle over her, forcing her frame into the ground.

"Fine, you didn't lie, but you sure as hell didn't give me any respect! I'm taking her off the machines. Now!" He glared in her direction as if challenging her to defy him before he exited the room quickly, slamming the door in his wake. She sighed heavily, moving her eyes over to House.

"Nicely played." She spoke wearily – she had wanted this for his patient too – and he turned away from her moving toward the door.

"It's not over." He spoke as he pulled the door open and she rounded the corner of her desk, following the two of them quickly. When she reached the clinic waiting area, it was to see a young girl thanking Donald sincerely as House watched. Donald turned to glare at him and House spoke slowly.

"This girl's father will die by next weekend unless he gets your wife's heart." She stared at House incredulously – unable to comprehend what he was doing.

"House, don't you think that's a little manipulative?" She spoke in a lowered tone as Donald appeared to be at a loss for words.

"No. it's hugely manipulative." House spoke unapologetically as he didn't take his eyes off of Donald Neuberger, who looked livid.

"You're an ass." He spoke bitterly, turning away.

"Hey listen, you take your wife off life support and I'll have forgotten about this in two weeks. Gail here on the other hand-" He waved at the daughter who frowned over at him.

"Amy." She corrected and House didn't even pause.

"Whatever. You're mad at me, I get that." He spoke to Donald carelessly. "Take it out on me, not her." Donald sighed heavily, looking torn for a moment as he stared at first the floor and then the ceiling. Finally he moved toward House and kneed him in the groin as Amy gasped. She stared as House fell to the floor, moving toward him as Donald stared at Amy.

"Fine, your dad can – can have my wife's heart." His voice broke and he didn't look at House again as he exited the clinic quickly. She knelt by House who was still on the floor with a pained expression. She looked up at Amy, and shook her head, watching as the girl exited quickly. Picking up House's cane, she pulled at his arm until he stood with her.

"I hope we got that on tape." She muttered as she felt him lean on her heavily before turning them both back to her office. She heard his weak chuckle, and lead him to her sofa, watching as he sank gratefully on to it with a sigh.

"Evil." he managed to get out in a pained voice and she stood with her hands on her hips glaring at him.

"What did you expect House?! Tact is unknown to you – if you had of just-"

"It worked." He bit out painfully and she frowned down at him before moving over to her door and closing the blinds with a jerk. She didn't respond as she exited the room and ducked into the clinic's supply room, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer in there and heading back to her office. She handed to him as she closed the door and he accepted it silently, gingerly laying it across his lap with a wince.

"You are out of your mind." She sat next to him and watched him carefully. His face was pale and he still had lines of pain etched along it. "What now? Her organs were rejected for a reason-"

"Find out why. And fix it if we can." He spoke in a harsh whisper, sucking in a breath as he adjusted the cold pack. She nodded, and remained silent for a few moments.

"How's the pain?" She finally asked softly after a few moments, leaning closer and freezing when his eyes opened and he turned his head toward her.

"Bad." His replied horsely. "I think as my physician you should really examine the area for any lasting damage." She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I think you're fine if you're already sexually harassing me." She spoke dryly, attempting to lean back but his hand caught her wrist and she stopped moving, looking down at where his fingers were wrapped loosely around the delicate bone there. It was hot and cold all at once and she shivered slightly in the warm room. She met his eyes and he looked at her seriously for a moment, his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin there as she fought to appear unaffected.

"Are you done avoiding me?" His question was soft and she shook under his hand, realizing just how dangerous this could get. Even injured he was unquestionably not safe.

"What is it about this guy House? Why are you fighting so hard for this patient?" She changed the subject, feeling his fingers tighten around her wrist for a moment before he shrugged in response, pulling her closer as her trembling increased. She closed her eyes – to block his out, and his hand slid under the hem of her jacket, tracing along the skin on the back of her arm, his fingers warm and rough yet still sending waves of pleasure crawling across her skin.

"He- he just said some things. His wife.." He trailed off thoughtfully and she opened her eyes, to see him staring off at the opposite wall while his hand still had hers. "He's protecting his kid – maybe the guy just deserves a second chance."

"House.." She frowned as she spoke. He turned to her and she lost the ability to speak as his eyes met hers. He looked like he was on the verge of something – something hiding in the depths there that she couldn't quite see. An odd ache had started up somewhere in her chest, and it reverberated throughout her whole body. She leaned forward a fraction of an inch, but his hand released hers and he moved away at the same time – making the movement graceful in it's irony. He put the ice pack on the table, gripping the cane tightly and pushing himself up slowly.

"Thanks for the.. service." He smiled through the pain and she sat below him, oddly disappointed. Somewhere at the back of her mind the vision of the little boy with bright eyes danced, and she was vaguely aware of his wrist still tingling slightly where his skin had been in contact with hers. She glanced down and away, cradling her arm against her stomach gently, pressing it there and reminding herself that there were reasons she stayed away from him. There were things she wanted – needed – that he would never provide and she was running out of time. She couldn't afford to wait for him to finish out this three steps forward, five steps back dance that they were doing. It hurt too much – like slowly peeling away a band aid millimeter by millimeter. She wanted to press it back against her skin even though she new she needed to rip it off.

He didn't wait for a response, exiting her office gingerly, his limp slower and more pronounced. She sat in the echoing silence once he had gone, her skin still warm and her heart colder than when she had started. No matter how she wanted him to be what she needed – she knew better. It wasn't in him – just like it wasn't in her to settle.

* * *

It was dark when she walked out into the clinic and saw Wilson sitting there in the dark, a desk lamp on and a pile of file sin front of him. She sighed softly watching him, before moving up beside him, and leaning against the desk. "This doesn't help you know." she spoke softly, crossing her arms as she watched him.

"Does anything?" He asked bitterly, closing one file and sliding another toward him.

"Depends. On what you need – what you want. Wilson.."

"I love my wife." His voice was quiet in the empty clinic, his statement reverberating off the walls. "She – I haven't cheated. I've wanted- I almost- but I didn't. And I still feel like I'm losing her anyway." his voice was small as he continued and she felt her heart go out to him. He looked exhausted, drained and she recognized the feeling.

"So if you feel like you're losing her why are you here letting her go? Wilson – if you want something you have to work for it. Find a solution. I mean, don't take my word as law – the only relationship I have is with this damn hospital-" She laughed shortly and he looked at her with dark eyes that saw too much.

"You can't commit to two things at once Lisa. It's not in your nature." She sighed at his words, and frowned.

"I didn't mean for the hospital to take over my life like this. Don't let it take over yours." He smiled sadly at her, pushing the files away and standing slowly. He pulled his coat on, and paused to look at her for a moment in the dark.

"Thanks Lisa." He picked up his scarf, wrapping it around his neck and walking around the desk before pausing once more. "And I think we both know that what you're committed to isn't the hospital." She sucked in a shocked breath and he shook his head. "I just want to see you happy. Both of you." he added softly before disappearing through he doors and she stared after him in disbelief. Her arms wrapped around his midsection protectively and she shook her head. She knew what would make her happy. And it wasn't what James Wilson thought.


	12. Need

"Would you be attracted to a man who spent an hour and a half _grooming_?" He didn't knock before bursting in with that particular non sequitur and she silently thanked whatever deity that she wasn't in the middle of anything other than a particularly dry as dust finance report.

She arched a brow and looked him up and down before speaking in a biting tone. "Why are you going to start making an effort?" She smiled winningly at the end and he limped forward, leaning heavily on his cane as he glared at her fiercely.

"It was a serious question." He paused for a moment by the chairs, before continuing forward and finally coming to a rest at her side, hooking his cane on the edge of her desk, and leaning there.

"I don't know, House. Why aren't you working?" He rummaged in his coat pockets for a moment before pulling out what looked like a bag of chocolates and tossed a few in his mouth.

"No case." he answered around the food.

"Have you even checked?" she didn't bother waiting for the response she knew would be a lie. "Go to your own office House. Remember? Fourth floor because it's far enough away from me and yet high enough to throw things from the balcony _you_ insisted on?" He smiled slightly as she brought up the list of demands he had stated almost nine years ago now.

"Your obsession is unhealthy Cuddy. I hope you know that." he spoke gravely before turning the bag toward her. "Chocolate?" She frowned in disgust, shaking her head no. He shrugged and threw a few more in his mouth before continuing. "It was almost inhumane, I mean what heterosexual man takes more that fifteen minutes to get ready for any day?"

"The ones getting laid?" she spoke sarcastically looking up at his attire – a dark gray blazer thrown over a wrinkled blue shirt and a black t shirt underneath that she was fairly certain had a stain on the front, only partly covered by the other layers.

"I didn't think the devil had a sense of humor." he deadpanned, but her smile just grew wider.

"Keeps the job interesting." she shrugged as she spoke, glancing back down at the file he was mostly blocking. She should make him move, or leave, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care about a report that had been teetering on the verge of making her want to claw her own eyes out.

"Maybe he is gay. It would explain a lot."

"Such as the living arrangements. Making plans to become the fourth Mrs. Wilson, House?" she snickered and he huffed slightly.

"I only got four hours sleep." His tone was veering closer to a whine now and she rolled her eyes, pushing his knee aside so she could open her drawer and extract a five dollar bill. She slapped it in his hand and pulled a face.

"Red Bull is in the lobby vending machine. Now go do your job."

"And how did you know he was staying with me?" he mock gasped and glanced around. "Did you plant a camera in my apartment? Because that is a _total_ violation and I want you to know that every time I.. _you know_.. I was picturing you in that red top.." He leered over her desk and she rolled her eyes, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of shock. She was well beyond it after all these years anyway.

"Wilson – unlike _some_ people – is a responsible doctor who updates his emergency contact information regularly."

"What emergency? Oh no! Somebody's dying – oh wait.. they _all _are!" he spoke mockingly and she looked up at him with raised brows and a smile that hadn't been present before he came waltzing in.

"Go."

"You still didn't answer." He didn't budge, even under her most fierce glare and she sighed heavily.

"I take forty minutes to get ready – if a guy takes longer than that he's trying too hard." she finally responded grudgingly. His smile was triumphant as he leaned back, savoring the information.

"So that's like, ten to get ready and thirty to get the girls to _just_ the right positions right?" It took her five more minutes of glaring and ordering before he finally left. The slam echoed in the room, leaving her with a slight smile and a file full of slightly wrinkled finance reports. She shook her head slightly – wondering if she could discover her resolve laying under the useless file.

* * *

Something was.. not right. Wilson was skulking around the halls furtively, cell phone pressed to his shoulder as he glanced around nervously. At first she thought he was avoiding her, but after he spotted her and nodded with a brief smile, she decided it wasn't her. And if it wasn't her that meant...

"House. What did you do to Wilson?" She demanded loudly as she strode through his office door later that afternoon. He looked up from where he was bouncing his tennis ball from the floor to the wall and back to him repeatedly but didn't pause his movements.

"I didn't do anything." He responded defensively and she glared at him, her eyes narrowing as his speed increased.

"Why is he avoiding you then? He only does that when he's mad at you." She moved further in the room, her eyes following the ball for a moment, before glancing around the room, taking in the paperwork skewed across the desk and the empty drink cans in the garbage. She frowned, before glancing back up at him.

"He's always mad at me." House was responding to her, still not stopping his movements. "But I suppose.. it could be because I kicked him out this morning."

"House!" Her head snapped back in his direction and looked at him in shock. House simply shrugged, bouncing the ball again and looking unconcerned.

"It's not like I'm leaving him homeless. Good lord the man's a doctor – he can afford a hotel." She walked over to him quickly glaring the whole way. He still didn't take his eyes off the ball and she reached out, snatching it out of the air mid bounce in between the floor and the wall. He finally met her disapproving gaze.

"He's your friend House. And he's going through a tough-"

"Oh please. He's always going through a divorce – what am I going to have to live with him for the rest of my life?" He seemed to be almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, remarkably agile for a crippled man.

"House. He was there for you when Stacy-"

"We don't like to talk about that. Hey! Did you hear about my new patient? Sex fiend, how cool is that? He and his wife have dirty little rape fantasies. Twisted." She sighed as he stood before her and she crossed her arms, one hand still holding his tennis ball.

"No I didn't hear. Which means you haven't killed him or pissed his family off yet, amazingly enough. It's been practically a whole day." He smiled slightly at that, leaning past where she was standing against the desk and picking up a folder. His arm brushed against her shoulder as he leaned, which she was sure wasn't an accident. She tried to ignore how hyper aware she was of the warmth emanating from his body, the way he smelled, his breath against her skin as he leaned across her. When he pulled back he handed her the file. She leafed through it blindly, not really seeing any of the details, her eyes snagging a few words here and there in the patient history.

"Look." He leaned over her, pointing to a section of the patient history. She read quickly, trying to concentrate despite his nearness. It was like a game to him lately – he was pushing the envelope with how close he could get to her. They had barely touched before – but since the kiss in her living room and the.. close call in the locker room, he seemed to be pushing her. Testing her to see how far he could go. How close he could get. "They had a threesome. As an anniversary gift. That is just the gift that keeps on giving." She blinked up at him in confusion, startled by how close he was now, much closer than he needed to be.

"Why is that relevant _medical_ history House?" He shrugged, his shoulder brushing hers again gently.

"It's not. But still – cool to know."

"What are you thinking?" She tried to make her eyes focus on the file again, but she was having trouble.

"No clue. Kids just got paged though, so I'm hoping for a new symptom." She closed the file as he chuckled slightly. "Cameron actually bet me that they're happily married – he and the wife."

"Why do you think they're not?" He glanced over at her, his eyes meeting hers.

"I think it's hard for anyone to be happily married. But why would you need all of that other stuff – if you're happy?" She laughed gently, a throaty sound and he looked at her in curiosity.

"Maybe all that other stuff is what _makes_ them happy House. Just because you're married or committed doesn't mean the good sex is officially over." He frowned, still watching her closely. "Anyway you are avoiding and I cannot be distracted. Wilson. Play nice with him House. He needs a friend right now."

"Well I'd send him to _your_ house but I don't think he can afford you." He leaned over her, bracing one arm to the right of her and invading her space. She simply smiled, determined not to react despite the fact that her heart was currently racing.

"You're right – he couldn't. Especially not with three alimony payments." He grinned at her and she pushed off the desk, standing slowly. She handed the file back to him, trying not to notice when his fingers slid over hers as he took it from her.

"Dinner?" He spoke quickly and she looked at him in confusion. "When I win. I mean, Cameron would be paying.. right?"

"Right." She answered with a wry smile. "We'll see if you win first." she shot over her shoulder, feeling his eyes on her as she walked away with a smile.

* * *

Distracted. It was the best word for her state of mind lately. She felt like she was wandering around in a perpetual daze. The dreams didn't help. Sudden flashes of tiny hands grasping hers, intent blue eyes watching her with undisguised love. House wasn't helping anything either – constantly hanging around and bugging her. Pushing her, touching her. He was making it seem like her dreams were within grasp, and that thought only had the power to hurt her.

She sighed softly under her breath as she opened the clinic doors, moving quickly through to her office. A woman stood as she was about to enter her office, and stopped her. Her face was pinched – angry with a touch of insult. She sighed – knowing what was going to come out of the woman's mouth before she even opened it. _House._

"I am not having an affair with my daughter's karate instructor and I did not give my husband herpes!" She smiled in what she could only hope was a comforting fashion before her hand snaked out, stopping a passing nurse mid-stride.

"Find out where House is." She bit out, and the nurse nodded before scurrying away quickly. She turned to the woman, still angry before leading her to an empty exam room. "I am so sorry Mrs.."

"Lambert." She spoke in a less angry tone now, allowing herself to be ushered into the quiet room, and taking a seat on a chair next to the counter. "I'm sorry – but my husband came home-" she broke off for a moment, pressing a shaking hand to her mouth. "-herpes. I mean – there's no cure for that is there?"

She shook her head sadly. "No – but it's quite a manageable disease if-"

"And then the bastard tries to blame me! I have _never_ had an affair in my life. And if I haven't – and _he's_ got it – that bastard!" Tears were filling the woman's eyes now and her cheeks were red with anger. Cuddy listened sympathetically – pushing all thoughts of meetings and reports out of her mind. House obviously dealt with the husband in his usual fashion.

"Mrs. Lambert -" she began gently, catching the other woman's attention. "We'll have to perform some tests – if your husband did contract herpes, you'll need a confirmed diagnosis before we start you on-"

"Go ahead." Mrs. Lambert whispered brokenly, pulling her coat off and offering her arm. "I'm going to _kill_ him. How could he do this to me?" Her voice shook and Cuddy didn't offer any explanation as she took the blood needed. She was going to kill a man herself.

* * *

It was almost lunch when Brenda handed her the results and she actually remembered that before the slew of paperwork had started she was pissed at House. She frowned wondering why that random nurse hadn't found him – and where was that random nurse anyway? Sighing, she picked up the phone and called Mrs. Lambert before pushing away from her desk, and heading toward the elevators, alternately hating herself and looking forward to this between every step.

She knew – that small part of her always knew that she could just have Brenda take the file up. She could send some other random nurse who would clearly be more reliable and less terrified, she could e mail him, call his office – any number of ways she could let him know about this without _actually_ going up there. But a larger part of her scoffed. She was going because she wanted to – because she had precious little reason to see him lately – and she needed it. Needed this. Needed him. She closed her eyes, wondering about her own mental sanity as the elevator ascended, leaving behind any doubts she had.

She didn't stop – didn't give the self depreciating thoughts time to catch up as she plowed out of the doors and down the hall, her eyes focused on his office and the file gripped tightly in hand. She couldn't help it. She just couldn't help herself and it sounded plausible enough in her head as she crossed the threshold, walking in on a conversation between he and Wilson – _at least he hopefully made up with Wilson_ – and interrupted.

"Here." She stepped up to him, moving past Wilson and shoving the file at him until he took it awkwardly in one hand, fingers brushing hers and she felt an inner relief, and she could admit to herself why she really needed to be here. "Mrs. Lambert's herpes test results." He frowned down at the file in his hand.

"Mrs who?"

'You've told more than one patient his wife is sleeping with his daughter's karate teacher?" She asked in disbelief. "If you want to stir the pot, you have to clean up the mess." She crossed her arms and attempted to glare at him but her hand was still tingling and it felt more like she was tucking it against her chest – a vapid girl with a teenage crush – _I'll never wash this hand again. _Even her thoughts were bitterly sarcastic – he was rubbing off more than she realized.

"What would you do if you got herpes?" He wondered aloud to Wilson, staring past her unseeingly. She found herself irritated by his lack of attention – another teenage symptom – and ignored him right back, not even acknowledging Wilson's presence in the room.

"She's coming in at five, don't make me come looking for you." She watched him as she spoke, but he gave no indication of having heard her.

"Actually I know what _you'd_ do - but I mean a normal guy." She was sure Wilson was probably frowning at House, aghast – or confused and trying to follow the two conversations, but it wasn't her issue.

"And _don't_ be calling in sick or saying your team needs you for some sort of emergency consult." she continued on as if he hadn't spoken.

"If he suspected his wife had been playing pickle games he'd keep it on the down lo – wait until she got infected-"

"You'd give your own wife herpes just to shift blame-" Wilson finally spoke – the disbelief in his tone and she sighed inwardly, wondering why she was here – why she was doing this to herself. It was like a sick fascination with something she could never have. She couldn't. _You can't. _

"He'd give his own mother herpes if it got him out of clinic duty." She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and heading back out the door, unsure who she was mad at exactly. Him for being.. well, _him_? Or her for being unable to give this up?

* * *

She assumed she wouldn't see him until five – probably later. Of course, it was just typical of him to start pissing people off now – when she _really_ needed to be not near him. Neither of these thoughts helped any though as first Cameron and then House burst into her office successively.

"This is a violation of her privacy and he cannot expect to be allowed to-" Cameron was speaking quickly, her tone angry and offended as House arrived after her, rolling his eyes and pulling a face behind her back.

"Oh please. The woman is _murdering_ her husband. Painfully. Right under your nose and she-"

"She _loves_ him!" Cameron threw over her shoulder.

"I haven't seen any evidence of that." He returned snidely. "The man is being poisoned and the only thing that's been with him constantly is his wife-"

"You don't have any proof of that!"

"_Excuse_ me." She finally broke into a lull in the conversation and they both turned their glares onto her. "While I appreciate you both barging into my office while I'm in the middle of _actual_ work – what in the hell are you talking about?"

"House thinks the wife is poisoning the patient with heavy metals. Even though he's tested negative for lead, mercury and arsenic. House refused to believe the tests are right and searched the wife's belongings-"

"She agreed to it." House pointed out, placing a hand on the back of the chair in front of him as Cameron ignored him and continued.

"And now he wants to do a full physical exam including gynecological-"

"Absolutely not." Cuddy finally spoke, her gaze moving over to House. He walked toward the door – pacing as he spoke.

"She agreed to let me search everywhere else, yet this she says no to. Doesn't that tell you something?" He swung around, moving back toward the desk as she laughed slightly.

"Yes. That she doesn't want some lunatic doctor searching her vagina with a flashlight."

"Cameron can do that." He waved over to Cameron as she looked shocked.

"I am not going to-" she started in an affronted tone.

"The woman hasn't left the hospital since they arrived!" He interrupted angrily. "Whatever she's using she's obviously hiding somewhere!"

"She's _not_ poisoning him!" Cameron was staring directly at House, who was turned toward her.

"It's the only explanation." He was still focusing on her, meeting her eyes and only glancing at Cameron every now and then – a sure sign he was angry. Clearly not a clear enough sign for Cameron however, who continued.

"No, it's the only explanation your twisted mind can come up with because you're angry you can;t find the answer and you're taking it out on her!" Cameron was on a roll now, and she watched her with a raised brow.

"And you are protecting a complete stranger based on some childishly romantic notion that people are all so happily married they don't want to kill each other!" He was still watching her even as he responded to Cameron, jabbing at her verbally in response. She watched in disbelief, almost shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

"Are you calling me childish?!" She almost rolled her eyes at Cameron's rejoinder – the girl needed lessons in how to deal with House – you'd think after two years-

"Grow up!" House spoke snidely and she wanted to choke the two of them, but interrupted instead.

"Shut up!" She glared at House and then Cameron, wiping the triumphant smirk off the girl's face. "Both of you." Turning back to House she softened her glare. 'And stay away from his wife. Sorry – I'm not giving you permission to assault someone." It appeared to be all Cameron needed to get the smile back on her face as she all but pulled a face at House as she walked out of the office quickly, leaving just House who was watching her intently. "What?"

"She's poisoning her husband." He spoke in a much quieter tone as he sat heavily in the chair in front of her desk. She sighed, pressing her hands against her forehead for a moment before looking up at him.

"You're probably right – you usually are. House if you say that this is heavy metal poisoning – it probably is. However you are just going to have to find another way to prove it. One that doesn't involve harassing his innocent until proven guilty wife." She spoke in a tired tone and he nodded thoughtfully, staring out of the window behind her. She sighed, glancing at her watch and stood, pulling her lab coat on and rounding the desk to where he sat. Leaning against the desk in front of him, she watched as his gaze transferred from the window to her with a small smile.

"What if I'm wrong?" He spoke quietly and for a moment she stared down at him, unsure of what to say. House unsure was not something she was accustomed to, so she placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment of silent comfort. He leaned into the touch and she leaned down closer to him, bracing his weight for a minute.

"The you're out the cost of dinner _plus_ whatever you owe Cameron." She opted to distract him and it seemed to work as he smiled slightly, sinking further into her for a blessed moment before pulling away. He didn't say thanks, or anything at all, but his gaze – serious on hers – seemed to say it all before he ducked out the door.

* * *

In the end he was late. She wasn't surprised – she had actually scheduled the meeting for six – but she wouldn't tell him about that. So in actuality, Mr and Mrs Lambert were only waiting in her office for ten minutes when he showed up. She had paged him three times after five – just to keep up the pretense and met him at the door, holding it open as he limped through.

"Mr and Mrs Lambert's appointment was over an hour ago." She spoke in a low tone, glancing over her shoulder at the couple seated in front of her desk before releasing the door and walking ahead of him to her desk.

"Sorry, I was sick. And my team needed an emergency consult." His tone was brief as he joined her, standing a touch closer than was strictly necessary. He barely spared the couple a glance before speaking again. "Your wife has herpes."

"What? That's impossible I don't have any-" She protested, putting a hand to her chest as the husband stared at her in accusation.

"You haven't had an outbreak _yet_. Don't worry you will." House spoke over her, and she turned to her husband in shock.

"You ruddy jackass!" She stood, moving away from her husband and House looked at her with a frown. Meanwhile the husband was effusing his loyalty and purity. "But you're the one with the blisters on his-"

"Doesn't mean he got it first." House broke in, and they both turned to him. "You don't need to have an outbreak to spread the virus." The husband latched onto the idea immediately and Cuddy had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Yeah! And you're the one always talking about wanting more sex!" The husband looked nervous, as his wife glared at him.

"From _you_. And maybe I'd actually get more if you weren't getting it somewhere else." She shot back quickly.

"Well – you two obviously have a lot to talk about." House began to move away but her arm shot out, grabbing his shirtfront and hauling him back, never once looking at him.

"Don't even _think _of dumping this in my lap." She muttered as she dragged, and he was closer now than before, but not leaving anymore which was a good thing.

"There's gotta be someway to prove it was-" Mrs. Lambert was pointing angrily as she spoke. "-_him._"

"I'm sorry there's no way-" Cuddy started but House spoke over her.

"Either of you two ever use a public toilet?" She shot him a look of disbelief, but both Lambert's were nodding. "Herpes can live for short periods outside the body." She stared at him incredulously for a moment, before speaking in a controlled voice.

"Dr House you know you can't get herpes from-"

"_Some_ politically correct doctors-" he was cutting her off again and she glared at him silently as he continued. "- will tell you it's impossible to get infected by a toilet seat, but they'll also tell you not to use the same towel to wipe your face and your crotch during an outbreak. See the contradiction.?" The wife looked disbelieving and the husband was perking up.

"I always use a paper cover." Mrs. Lambert spoke slowly.

"Always?"

"Yes, of course." House nodded and looked at Mr. Lambert.

"What about you?" They turned as Mr. Lambert adopted a defeated look.

"No. I _never_ knew." His performance was so bad she didn't know whether to laugh, be disgusted or in awe of House's plan. In the end she opted for a little of all three.

"Oh please this is ridiculous!" Mrs. Lambert scoffed and House sighed.

"Damn, I was sure it was Miyagi." He looked at the couple in front of them.

"What?" The wife was confused and the husband looked horrified.

"He _could _believe that you could get herpes from a toilet seat, or he could be cheating on you and happy to have an out." Mr. Lambert stepped closer, clearly scrambling.

"The toilet seat makes sense doesn't it?" He was pleading and House shook his head.

"Sure, but she'd only refuse to believe such a well presented lie if she were innocent. And since you both can't be innocent.." He trailed off, shaking his head at the husband. "You ruddy jackass."

Mrs. Lambert shook her head, pulling her ring off and flinging it on the floor. The husband shot a look at House. "Thanks." he spoke snidely before chasing his wife out of the door. "Honey-" She sighed when they both had left, thankful it was over and somehow miraculously no one had sued.

"Well." She glanced over at House who was retrieving the ring from the floor and holding it before him, staring at it thoughtfully. "Not bad." She spoke to prod him out of his thoughts more than anything and he looked up, dropping the ring on the desk and moving out of the office quickly. She watched him as he pulled out his cell phone and she sat down with a small smile. Something told her that House's patient would be fine. And his patient's wife... well – at least dinner would be free for both of them.

* * *

She had left after the arrest. It was almost eight then – and she had driven herself home with a small sigh, peeling off her work clothes in her bedroom and changing into velor pants and a tank top. She was pouring herself a glass of orange juice and contemplating the entirely unappealing contents of her fridge when her doorbell rang.

She smiled as she opened the door. "You know – when you promised dinner I was hoping for something nicer than pizza on my couch." She opened the door fully as he limped past with a grin.

"Hey the bet was only for twenty bucks. Besides my house has Wilson – and I brought you vegetarian. Doesn't that win me some points?" She narrowed her gaze as she followed him to the kitchen, passing him and getting two plates.

"Is it half and half?" She wrinkled her nose as she asked – she hated meat anywhere on her pizza, the smell permeated every damn slice-

"No all veggie. The things I suffer through for you-" He muttered as he transferred three slices to his plate and held it in one hand, using his other for his cane as he made his way into the living room.

"I don't eat in there!" She protested, taking one slice for herself with a smile and a sigh. He wouldn't listen anyway. "Do you want a drink?" She was already opening her fridge and taking out a beer as she asked, knowing before he said anything that he would ask for it.

"Yeah. Beer if you have it." Carefully balancing her plate on top of her glass and holding his beer in the other hand she moved slowly into the living room where he was already scanning through her Tivo. She put his beer on the table in front of him, before lifting her plate off the glass and settling on the sofa next to him. "Damn Cuddy do you have an unnatural obsession with criminal dramas?"

She shrugged taking a bite of the pizza, careless of the grease and thankful for the food. "What am I supposed to watch – Grey's Anatomy?" She laughed slightly and spoke around the bite she just took. He laughed, taking a swig of beer and watching her.

"They arrested her. Gold poisoning – we didn't test for it – I mean who uses-" She nodded, glancing across at him.

"I know. I mean I suspected when you left after the meeting – but I saw them take her away. Sad for him." She took a sip of juice and another bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully as House finally selected a show and turned the volume down, leaving it as background noise.

"Yeah – he thought he had it all."

"At least he'll be fine." She spoke softly, turning to face him, watching as he ate.

"Sure if by fine you mean the only woman he's ever loved wanted him dead. And you thought wading in the dating pool was hard for _you_." He took another swallow of beer, pausing after he put it down and staring off thoughtfully.

"How's Wilson?" she broke the silence finally, staring at her empty plate as she spoke.

"Still there. It's- not so bad having him around. Course hooker night's all shot to hell now." He joked weakly and she smiled at him warmly.

"Oh I'm sure if you pay her enough she'd do a two for one."

"Why Cuddy what a dirty girl you are. How about I call her over here right now-"

"Oh shut up." She laughed softly sinking back into her sofa.

"Seriously. I have-" He checked his pockets for a moment, making a show of pulling them out. "Twenty six dollars and fifty two cents here – plus about five days worth of Vicodin. What's the street value on that?"

"Worth giving up drugs for?" She was amused, but still detached – he was far enough away that she could engage him in this banter without any fear of-

"You'd be surprised what you're worth-' he leaned over, leering at her and she laughed softly. He had moved closer when she wasn't looking and suddenly he seemed to be right next to her, entirely too close and entirely unsafe. "Cuddy-" His voice was almost soothing and his hand was on her arm. So simple. Yet so complicated and she felt like she couldn't breathe. Not when his hand was on her bare skin, heating her through and his voice was saying her name in _that_ way. She swallowed heavily and he leaned closer, his fingers tracing unseen messages onto her skin. Like she needed them – he was already branded in her mind – _her heart_ – she shook her head slightly at the thought.

"House.." Her voice was uncertain, and he must have heard it because his hand lifted, allowing cool air to rush across the sensitive skin there. He frowned down at her, clearing his throat nervously. She knew what he had thought and she desperately wanted to reassure him. There was no mixed signals – it was just her mind and heart at war. She wanted – but she couldn't have what she wanted and if she even voiced those thoughts to him – whispered all of her secrets in some twisted confessional he would back away. He would leave her alone, and for some reason the thought of that was slightly terrifying. He was watching her – his eyes intent and searching and she wanted to hide – but his cell phone rang – breaking the moment and allowing oxygen to flood back into the room. They both took a deep breath as he glanced at the caller id.

"Wilson." He muttered, not moving to answer it, but pulling back and running a hand through his hair. "No wonder his wife left him."

"He's a good man-" she spoke in a rough voice. _Thankyouthankyouthankyou Wilson._

"He's a pain in the ass. But a good cook." House laughed shortly as he glanced at her, once again serious. "Cuddy – we should-"

"We should." She broke across him, nodding nervously. "But not just- not right now." She wanted to escape this particular conversation as long as possible. Because once she – once he knew what she was planning.. what she needed. Once he knew that he would be gone – just like he had been after the infarction. After the one night- after Stacy. It was almost like fate's cruel trick – making her choose between two things she wanted so desperately she could taste them. In any given scenario – in any given pro con situation he lost. He always lost. Her choice was forever – and he was – well, at best he was temporary with a minuscule chance of forever. She wanted to have both as long as she could. He nodded, unaware of her own depressing thoughts as he sat back, turning the volume up and glancing across at her.

"You know-" he spoke slyly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "-a _good_ host would have offered a second drink by now." Just like that they were back to normal and she was again amazed by his ability to compartmentalize everything in his life. Amazed and thankful. She sighed softly, getting up and taking his empty bottle with her. "And since you're up..." She glared at him and grabbed his empty plate before heading into the kitchen. She didn't smile until she was well out of his line of sight.


	13. Connection

A/N: OMG this took forever to upload. I've said it once, and I'll say it again people - if you are on LJ at all (even if you're not) you should got to my LJ for fic updates. The link is on my profile page. Not only do I post stuff there that I don't here - I also respond to reviews there and may actually give you updates on what the hell is going on with the fic in the long breaks between updates, lol. This one is totally for Alias424 - who I always promise chap[ters too but she beats me in updating and guilts me into finally hammering out the pesky details of this chapter.

* * *

She was here ridiculously early. When her alarm had gone off and she had rolled over to see a bright sunny day so at odds with her current mood, she had decided to forego her usual run and go straight into work instead. Sometimes she worried about her sanity – a normal person would have gone back to sleep. But she was here – and working her way through ER reports when a file caught her eye. She paused, frowning as she read it with interest. Her hand was reaching for the phone and dialling before her eyes even reached the bottom of the page.

It rang five times before anyone answered. "Hello?" It was a harried sounding Wilson – slightly breathless as if he had been running for the phone and she rolled her eyes unseen. House was probably right next to the receiver.

"Good morning Dr. Wilson." She spoke with a smile, her fingers aimlessly flicking the corner of the folder back and forth.

"Dr. Cuddy – good morning. Was there something you needed- I mean is this professional or personal?"

"Professional – but I was looking for House. Is he around?"

"One second." There was a muffled thump and she could hear footsteps followed by faint knocking. After a minute or so the phone was picked up and Wilson's voice was apologetic. "I –uh – don't think he's up yet, Cuddy."

"Uh huh." She nodded, knowing that he was probably ignoring Wilson's summons and the phone. "Fine. Got a good case waiting for him when he finally drags his ass in here though."

"Really? I can give him the message – what have you got?" She could hear cupboards opening and closing as he asked and she glanced back down at the file in her hand.

"Teenage girl – came in suffering from anaphylactic shock."

"You know that's not interesting to him." Wilson snorted slightly under his breath and she laughed in agreement.

"She had a heart transplant six months ago- and is still in a clean room." She finished and he drew in a breath.

"Why would she still be in a clean room – wait. What would have caused a reaction?" She could practically hear his frown and she released her breath in a short burst.

"Not our job to figure it out. Tell him to come see me when he gets in for the file. I'll hold it here."

"You could just give it to Cameron-"

"I'll hold it here Wilson." She spoke again firmly. "I'll see you later. Oh and don't be late Dr. Wilson." She hung up without waiting for a response, and opened her drawer, dropping the file inside with a tiny smile.

* * *

He showed up two hours later, pushing open her office door with the rubber tip of his cane and peering in furtively, as if standing at the mouth of the lion's den. When he saw nothing but her, sitting behind her desk surrounded by piles of files, he wandered in slowly, dropping into the chair sullenly.

She didn't look up. She didn't look at him, or stare when he leaned forward, resting his chin on his cane and staring down the front of her shirt. Hard. "I heard…" he whispered in a melodramatic tone which she rolled her eyes at equally hard, "You have a _package_ for me?"

She did look up at that, sighing impressively and causing his eyes to immediately drop down to her cleavage again. Jerking open the drawer silently, she pulled the file out. He held a hand out waiting patiently, but instead of handing it over, she stood. She pulled her suit jacket on, buttoning it one handed before moving again. Walking around her desk, she held the file in hand and didn't look back at him as she sailed out of the office. It only took a few seconds before she heard the tell tale thump of his cane.

"It's rude to run ahead of a cripple you know." He spoke behind her as he followed her out of the clinic and through the lobby.

"It's also rude to stare at someone's ass but it doesn't seem to be stopping you." She spoke without looking over her shoulder, pressing the elevator button and waiting as he slid to a stop beside her.

"Well who wouldn't stare? It takes up two thirds of my field of vision." He reached across her for the file, but she lifted her arm up and away from her body finally glaring at him.

"Don't grab." The elevator doors opened and the stepped in together. She pressed the button and finally handed him the file, indulging in a momentary chuckle as the elevator lurched up and the file was slammed into his chest with a little more force than necessary. He opened it eagerly, ignoring her for the time being – and she watched the numbers slowly ascend as he muttered to himself.

"Four days of lab work ups? Why didn't I get this earlier?" He frowned over at her and she returned his look.

"You _never_ work more than one case at a time." She neglected to mention that she had just received the case herself for distribution. What he didn't know…

"I have. On occasion! There was that one time I-" he stopped abruptly, frowning and she smiled in triumph.

"Uh huh." She stepped out of the elevator almost before the doors has slid open enough to allow her room, sailing through the small gap and moving down the hall toward his office.

"Hey." He shouted after her, following almost just as quickly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm coming in to listen to the differential." She had stopped just outside the door and he pushed a hand against it, preventing her entrance as he asked the question. His fellows were staring through the door with confused expression.

"Any reason why?" He shifted closer to the door and she rolled her eyes.

"Because."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The kind that says this entire damn hospital is mine and I can do whatever the hell I want in it." She ground out through her teeth as he smirked down at her.

"You know – if you wanted to spend more quality time together I can suggest a nice empty patient's room. Or a broom closet. Or my bed. Unless you're into being watched because in that case-" She jerked the door handle hard enough to force him back, ignoring his grin as she passed through it and leaned against the wall by the door. He moved in more slowly, tossing the file on the table and staring at the other occupants of the room. "Sorry you had to see that kids. Neither one of loves you any less – I just want you to know that." He moved into the room, holding a hand up to his face. "Except of course – your Mom. She _never_ wanted you."

They ignored him, poring over the file instead. "She had an allergic reaction in a clean room?" Chase spoke aloud, reading over Cameron's shoulder.

"Why did she have a clean room in her house?" Cameron spoke with a frown as House made his way back to where she was leaning by the door.

"Heart transplant. Immune system's in the toilet, Mommy builds her little angel and John Travolta quality bubble." He threw over his shoulder as he walked.

"Six months after her transplant, she doesn't need to be confined to a clean room." Foreman pointed out the obvious and House threw him a look as he arrived at her side, standing with her and facing the room.

"Six months without putting out and Dr. Cuddy doesn't _need_ to wear thong panties, but it's not our call." She glared at him in exasperation.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to my panties." He looked at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to smile, continuing instead. "She's had four days of work ups. They've tested everyone who came anywhere near that room and everything in the room." He wandered over to the sink, turning at her words.

"It's like an Agatha Christie mystery." He spoke sarcastically and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him and transferring her gaze to the fellows.

"Maybe it's not what was there – it was what she was doing." Chase piped up, trying to be helpful and House glared at him for his effort.

"Exercise allergy. Love it." He poured his coffee and put on a thoughtful face. "Now what sort of exercise could a strapping young man and a nubile teenage nymphet possibly be—"

"Mom was in the room within seconds." She interjected quietly and his eyes met hers for a second as he smiled slightly before picking up sugar and shaking the packet vigorously.

"So the boyfriend brought in an allergen and is lying about it." Chase offered.

"Or the girl snuck out and she's lying about that." Cameron put in.

"Or the parents are lying about the room being clean." House turned around with his red coffee mug in hand.

"These are your big ideas?" She spoke incredulously, not knowing exactly why she was so upset to learn that House had finally trained his fellows down into mini-me's. "Somebody's lying?"

He peered under the low hanging light over the conference table and watched her for a moment. "Hasn't let me down yet." He took a sip of coffee before speaking again. "Recheck the mom, the dad, the boy, the girl, the room and the home." The other three stood immediately and filed out of the room, streaming past her as he watched with a slight smirk. When the door closed behind them she frowned over at him. "Was it everything you imagined?"

She ignored his question, walking over to him and sighing slightly. "Why does everyone always have to be lying?"

"Because it's human nature. You lie. I lie. And not just to each other – to ourselves. It's what we do." He shrugged, taking another sip and she wanted to be angry, but instead just nodded in agreement. Wasn't that what she was doing right now? Lying to herself – lying to him. She reached up, taking his mug from his hands and taking a sip. He pulled a face at her. "Oh ew. We are not on _that_ personal of a level, Cuddy."

"Oh. Well then I guess I'll just keep this then-" She pulled the mug away and he snatched it back carefully.

"I'm also not deterred enough to give up my coffee. Get your own." She pouted slightly, leaning against the table lightly.

"I suppose it would be ridiculous and time wasting of me to tell you to keep me updated?"

"Yes, but I can admire your ass in that skirt some more while you do it – so really it's only a waste of time for _you_."

* * *

"How are you feeling?" He had sat down next to her on the sofa in her office, peering at her anxiously. She stared up at him in confusion. "No really. How are you _feeling_? Any aches? Change of season sniffles?"

"House," she sighed heavily – tired, and annoyed by her life in general. She was suddenly feeling the guilt of not having run that morning and contemplating a gym visit on the way home as she stared blindly at the paper scattered around the table in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

"She's allergic to penicillin." He tossed a pill in his mouth as he spoke, palming it as she watched the practised ease of the movement and wished it wasn't so… graceful.

"Yeah thanks. I did read that." She responded dryly and he leaned back, sinking into the sofa.

"Boyfriend had sex with her – wanted to be safe – not in the condom sense of course, but in the I'll take some drugs and get all the bad out sense."

She listened, sighing softly. "Penicillin?" He nodded and she shook her head on a short laugh. "How exactly are you going to explain that to the parents?"

"Not my problem. Kid didn't even know that medicine goes everywhere in your body. Speaking of-" he popped his head up, looking her up and down. "-you sure you don't have a headache or any aches and pains? I _did_ just take a painkiller-" She smacked him before he could even finish.

"No pain. Not until you walked in that is."

"Oh you like it. Masochist."

"Sadist." She muttered back and he grinned lazily over at her.

"Perfect pair then. Although, really – I think it would be the other way around. You enjoy hurting others much more I think." He spoke in a casual tone and she smiled in the soft lighting.

"Not _others,_ House. Just you." His smile widened and he nodded. "Now go home to your wife. I have paperwork to finish." He snorted softly, but didn't object as he stood, pausing at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Seriously though – if you get a cough, or a fever – if you sneeze. Just call me. I'll write the prescription." She didn't respond, inwardly laughing as the door shut softly behind him.

* * *

"I can't connect them." She didn't even have time to say hello – though she doubted it would have mattered anyway – before he started speaking.

"You are aware that you should wait to see if it's me before talking?"

"Why – are you telling me someone else would answer your phone?" His voice was soft, but laced with a sharp edge she no intention of dancing upon.

"Connect what?" she asked instead, listening to his sigh filter down the line and the rustle of papers.

"Heart failure and anaphylaxis," he muttered, and she heard more rustling and the steady one, two of his indrawn breath. She knew he didn't really need her to speak – didn't really expect her to magically know the answer. He just needed feedback. "It can't be unrelated. It makes no sense to be unrelated, but what in the hell relates them?"

"What about Tako-Tsubo?"

"But the anaphylactic shock responded to epi. It wouldn't do that if it wasn't actually anaphylactic right?" he mused, and she nodded, despite being sight unseen. "Why didn't you yell at me today?" She could hear the unmistakable sound of something being tossed onto a surface – a soft muted thwack in the distance as his voice lowered a notch and she shivered at the sound.

"Why would I?"

"Girl got worse. Had a heart attack – almost died..." he trailed off deliberately and the corner of her mouth twisted up awkwardly as she listened.

"Did you _cause_ any of that?"

"Well no-"

"I don't yell at you for fun House." She stated softly, her smile spreading slightly. More of a wry twist now than anything as she folded her legs under her, and pushed the book she had been pretending to read off to the side. Her eyes wandered over to her bookshelf, wondering if she should have picked something more thrilling – less romantic. Less boring. None of it rang true – an entirely too perfect guy meeting an improbably young girl – none of that mattered in real life. None of it happened – at least not to her.

"Liar. You say no but your eyes and heaving bosom always say yes."

"House-"she spoke in what might have been considered a warning tone. If you hadn't ever met her.

"Plus I figured you'd jump at the opportunity to yell now – when I can't be distracted by your heaving, rounded, creamy-"

"House!" She spoke much more sharply now even if she had to fight a full fledged smile as she did so, the laughter causing his name to tumble out of her throat in a shaking voice.

"Foreman thinks they're unrelated." Just like that he had snapped back to the case, back to the problem at hand and always in the back of his mind. He had a need to know – and not just a figurative one, but a literal one. He _had_ to know. To save the patient yes – but even if not… he would still need to know.

"You don't agree." She stated the obvious, and heard his breath released down the line. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it tickle her skin.

"It doesn't feel right. Something – I feel like I'm missing something." She didn't speak after he did, and they fell into silence – not uncomfortable but not quite at ease either. His breathing soothed her and she sank further down into her couch, letting her eyes close. He seemed content not to talk and she didn't press him, just accompanying him in silence for a while. When he did speak again, her eyes shot open and she jerked slightly at the sudden noise of his heavy sigh. "I suppose I should let Wilson in. Hey if I put you on speakerphone – would you pant and moan loudly for me?"

"Let Wilson in? House what are you – what did you do?"

"Relax Mom, just some good old fashioned fun. I wonder of I should drape a dirty sock just for fun-" he was muttering at this point and she rolled her eyes, not really wanting to know what in the hell they were both doing.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She spoke after listening to him mutter for a few more minutes.

"Hopefully you'll be angry." He growled slightly at the end and she was laughing when she finally hung u p – without saying goodbye, as usual – there just never seemed to be any point.

* * *

She didn't see him that day though. Not technically. Not until long after midnight – after the family of his patient had come to her in tears – not until after she stepped in on his case and ordered the MRI the family wanted – needed. She knew House would be notified – Chase was the one working after all.

So she called Wilson just before going down to the MRI. When he answered he sounded embarrassed – and had clearly expected a different type of call. "Of all the juvenile – God you'd think-"

"Dr. Wilson." She interrupted quickly, her breathing uneven and rushed.

"So sorry – I thought you were…" he coughed lightly and trailed off. "Did you need something?"

"Need a consult."

"On House's case?" Wilson spoke sharply, his voice oddly high and squeaking. She frowned at the phone for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Of course on House's case." She spoke evenly and continued when he didn't speak. "Look – you and I both know it's coming down to the wire for this girl. The parents want an MRI. I'm giving them one – but you and I also know House will have other ideas… what I need for you to do-"

* * *

She hadn't been wrong. Predictably – although House would hate to hear that word applied to him in any way – he interrupted her MRI, pestering the patient with questions about botulism. It wasn't botulism – but he was desperate. Anyone in the room could smell the fear.

She didn't stop him from talking to the girl though, knowing he would figure it out. Banking on it actually. Wilson delivered his lines perfectly – flawlessly and even the parents were convinced. The only snag hit when House almost pushed her off that elevator. There was no way she was not getting on it – especially since Wilson was nowhere near close enough. House would come off with a lawsuit. He usually did.

She had to duck under his cane – and in a skirt too, he would pay for that later – and watched the doors close on the parent's horrified faces and Wilson's knowing one. "Did he just help me? Cause if I were him..." he mused, only to be brought to a halt as she hit the emergency stop button and he shot her a shocked look.

"_Please_ tell me you're sure about this." Her voice was a plea and he didn't bother arguing, giving a short nod as she began pulling a syringe out of her pocket.

"If I'm not sure, she's dead." He spoke grimly and she held her breath for a moment, holding the syringe in the IV, hesitating for a moment. "What's seems more likely Cuddy- that all of these symptoms are unrelated or that _one_ moronic doctor missed something he shouldn't have?" His eyes met hers and she nodded slightly – agreeing with something he hadn't said and she hadn't heard – and her finger depressed the plunger slowly.

"Hurry."

He was already searching her skin, peering through her hair. "Like you just happened to have atropine?" Her eyes were glued to the monitor and he shot her a look. "This would be quicker if you helped."

She jumped slightly at his words, moving down and checking the girls' neck and shoulders – all bare and smooth - free from blemishes. The chest was the same too – aside from the six month old scar that no teenage girl should have. "House – her heart rate is at 40."

"Check her ears, her armpits – everywhere." He snapped at her, his voice strained and rushed.

"We _have_. She's not improving – there _is_ no tick and-" she was yelling now, her voice loud and angry as she watched the number on the monitors drop further still.

"There has to be!" He was yelling loudly now too – shaking the girl slightly. "Was that your first time having sex?" She didn't respond, simply passing out as her heart rate finally dipped below 35. He growled, and pushed the blankets up as she hit the button to send the elevator back in motion. He glared at her over her knees but she shrugged unapologetically.

"If you're wrong-"

"You check her. If those doors open and I'm the one down there..." he laughed slightly and she pushed around the bed, pressing him against the wall of the elevator as she leaned down to inspect the girl carefully. She was sifting through, deeper and deeper when she saw it. She vaguely heard the doors slid open and angry voices, felt House push from behind her, stepping in front of her but by then she had the small bug in the tweezers and had stood up, holding it like some white flag of cease fire.

They wheeled her out much more slowly, and she and House were ignored as Foreman took the patient off to the ICU with the still visibly upset parents. She and Wilson shared a look as House took the tweezers from her and she stripped her gloves off with a sigh.

"_You _were supposed to be on there- not me-" she hissed at him as House walked back slowly.

"Foreman is pushy and runs fast. I can't believe you kept up with him in those-" Wilson was hissing back but they both shut up as House reappeared and an awkward silence descended. She pulled back abruptly, teetering in her high heels – a spare pair she kept in her office with an outfit for days when she didn't make it home to change – but they were an uncomfortable pair.

"I'll be down in ICU... hopefully convincing the parents not to sue us for everything we have." She growled, glaring at House for good measure as she did so. It was hardly his fault and she had even initiated most – if not all – of what had occurred, but she felt better for the glare anyway.

"Mention how their daughter is you know, _not_ going to die. Maybe it'll help." He shrugged and she glared once more before turning on her heel and following down the same path Foreman had just taken, shaking her head and wondering when in the hell she had lost her mind.

* * *

She found him waiting in her office, sitting on the sofa, with his hand rubbing along his leg as he stared off into space. She stepped into the room quietly – dying for the biggest cup of coffee on the face of the planet – or barring that – a nap, and sank down next to him with a sigh. "She's doing much better. And they're not suing."

"That's good." His voice was distracted, and he continued to stare off in the distance as he spoke. She had wandered back down from the ICU – stopping on a few of the floors, including maternity. She had stood in front of the glass for a moment, realizing just how long it had been since she'd been there last. Her life was slipping by too quickly – she wanted to grab it, grip it tightly and force it to slow down.

She didn't say any of this though, simply laid her head back and wondered if she could at all possibly clear her schedule a bit this afternoon for a short nap. Or time to just… be. She sighed softly without knowing it, and he finally glanced over at her his eyes thoughtful. "Wilson broke my cane. Filed halfway through it." He was smiling as he said it, so she guessed he wasn't too upset about it – but Lord only knew what House had done to deserve the retaliation in the first place.

"I liked that one."

"You did?" He turned his head toward her in surprise and she nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice wood – and before you make that dirty I meant the grain. The color. Oh just shut up." She was shaking by the time she stopped speaking – from fatigue and repressed laughter as he arched a brow in her direction.

"I knew you liked the hard wood." He joked softly, but it lacked their usual wit and conviction. He had no real reason to be in her office, she had no real reason to want him to stay – none she would admit anyway. But at the moment they had no one to explain it to – so they were sitting much too close on her sofa, and they were comfortable with defying explanation. "I need a new one. So I'm leaving."

"Right this second?" she responded, turning her head to look at him again.

"No. I was hoping I could convince you to play hooky."

"Not gonna happen." She spoke wistfully, thinking of her full schedule and the three meetings she had that day.

"You didn't even go home last night. Did you get any sleep?"

"Did you?" The best defence was often a good frontal assault with him.

"No way I can convince you to come with me? Not even a little bit?" she shook her head even before he was finished speaking and he looked at her seriously for a moment. "But the cane is such an important tool in our relationship – how am I supposed to know which one turns you on?"

"Oh they _all_ do. It's what I live for."

"I knew it. Makes a man much more confident – but we'll have to keep you away from the rehab floor." Her mouth twisted slightly at that and she shook her head to clear it.

"I have three meetings today." Her voice was suspiciously close to a whine and he smiled slightly across at her.

"You have to go."

"Hmmm." He stood and she looked up at him from where she was still taking one more minute – five more minutes – to relax.

"Nice touch with Wilson today. Inamrinone can cause arrhythmia and thrombocytopenia. All those big doctor words must have hurt your pretty little head." She glared at him as he had his hand on the door, awkwardly unbalanced with no cane at his side.

"What are you talking about?" she spoke tiredly, knowing full well what he meant, but she wasn't about to give in and tell him it was planned.

"Uh huh. Like Wilson ever comes up with these devious little plots on his own. It's all you-" he tapped his nose and shuddered before pulling the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow El Diablo." She didn't get a chance to open her mouth or even get a word in edgewise as he disappeared from her doorway. She sighed, glaring at the clock on the wall above her. Her five minutes were up.


	14. Assume

A/N: OMG this is long. Long. So long in fact that you cannot possibly expect another update from me for a while. Plus we're on vacation next week. So hug it, love it and call it Cuddy (or House, I know where my preference lies lol). And review - because out of this fic so far, this chapter is my favorite child. I love it. And need to know you all love it too. Let me know. Please? begs And ah ha! I beat Alias424 and she now owes me two chpaters. Mwohahahaha! And that offer is still in effect hon - even if Iended up osting this anyway.

* * *

It was the part of the job she _hated_. Technically she could have had someone else do this – but at best she was a perfectionist and at worst she was slightly obsessive compulsive. And by slightly she meant really. "I don't _care_ if the Liquor Authority has no record of it – this is our seventh annual fundraiser and we had no issues getting a temporary license any other year!" Her voice climbing higher as she spoke – not quite a yell, but definitely not a calm rational tone either. She dragged a hand over her face as a nerve twitched near her eye. She listened to the supposed customer service representative on the other end for a moment, gripping the phone tightly in her other hand and really wanting to fling it across the room. 

"Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." She ground out into the phone tightly, looking up as Wilson and House entered her office. Wilson looked apologetic for his presence at least – but House strode in as usual. "Yes_hospital_!" She winced, knowing she had definitely yelled that part. Digging through the pile in front of her she pulled out a stack of small white papers. "Oh I thought you might say that. I have the previous licence numbers." She ground out again, her teeth gritted as she rattled off the series of numbers, very slowly in case the moron she was speaking to couldn't count past ten.

"We should go." Wilson was leaning down to House who had already seated himself in front of her desk, blatantly listening in.

"_Go_? This is the best part. Look at the flush to her skin – the twitching of her eye… any second now she'll erupt – and _trust_ me, it's a great show." House whispered back as Wilson looked down at him in fascinated horror and she listened to the tap tapping of the keyboard in front of whichever high school drop out she was speaking to currently.

"Seriously – what is your IQ? Did they dig you out of a ditch somewhere? _They exist_. I am _looking_ at them for God's sake!" She was distracted from Wilson's reply as she yelled at the phone, her head aching and the tension in her neck shooting down her spine in a painful fashion. "How did you even get this job? Don't you need a brain? You know what- no. Supervisor. Now please." She paused for a beat, tension creeping across the top of her head as she listened to the placating tones of a teenaged moron. "I said _now._" She was screaming now – her pitch going high and then low as she winced and exhaled in frustration as she finally heard the hold music.

She looked across the desk at House who was laughing silently and Wilson who looked terrified. "What do you two want?" she snapped, holding the phone to one ear and putting the old licences onto her scanner.

"We were going to invite you to lunch. But now I'm thinking you need drinks more." House spoke as Wilson stood silently, looking stricken. "Why are you even organising this thing anyway? Can't you pay someone to do it?" She saved the scanned file and started scanning a new one, reaching over and smacking his hands away from her letter openers as she did so.

"Yes." She spoke evenly, saving another file and starting over.

"Control freak." House whispered at her, and she glared before her attention was taken away.

"Yes." She paused to listen for a moment before cutting off whoever this idiot was too. "No – I'm _not_ going to explain it all again when I'm pretty sure the moron you employ _just _explained it. Give me your e-mail, your name, and your position. I am sending you the old licences. _You_ figure it out – it's what they pay you for – but I had better have a temporary license by the end of the week – or I will go down there and have your ass fired – _do you understand_?" She scribbled the information he stammered out before slamming the phone down with a satisfying amount of rage.

"God that was hot." House's voice finally spoke from across her desk and she stared at him with a sigh. "I mean – it's awesome when you yell at me, but when all that rage is directed at someone _else_? Seriously. Chills."

"House – I am extremely busy with this stupid fundraiser-"

"Hey!" Wilson objected and she sighed.

"I didn't say the cause was stupid, the oncology department is completely worth it-" Wilson relaxed and House snorted from his seat.

"Oh please. Why do you keep throwing money at the department with the highest mortality rate? So he can watch them die in _style_? Now-"

"Shut up House." She and Wilson spoke at the same time and House sank in the chair, silent and sullen. "I can't do lunch today – I'm sorry. I still have a board meeting this afternoon and the caterers called earlier…" she spoke with a tired sigh and Wilson nodded sympathetically as House's eyes zeroed in on her.

"That's fine-" Wilson started but House cut across him as usual.

"You have to eat." She shook her head at his words, waving him off with the hand that wasn't on the mouse as she e-mailed the files.

"I'll grab something later. Did you put your suit in the cleaners?"

"What are you my Mom?" House responded petulantly and she ignored him, looking at Wilson instead who nodded.

"No. But if I don't check now – you'll ignore it and then claim you have no clean suit and no reason to go this year." She spoke pleasantly, sending the e-mail with a final click and resisting the urge to flip off her computer screen as she did so.

"I don't see why I have to go-"

"It's a requirement House."

"Yeah, besides – she practically engineered the entire evening around your needs." Wilson spoke somewhat bitterly from behind him. They both turned to him with varying expressions of shock. "What? Like it's a coincidence that it's a poker tournament? And has been for the last seven years. How long have you worked here again, I forget?"

"Almost nine years." House spoke in a definite 'so there' tone.

"Yeah well – you weren't so bad before-"

"I organize the poker night because it garners the most cash. Alcohol and gambling – it's a winning combination Wilson." She snapped out before Wilson could say anything stupid. It didn't matter that he was partly right. Poker was one of the things House loved – and originally she had organized it as a way to pull him out of the house after Stacy and the infarction. Once she realized how much money they had made however – it had become annual, with no regard to House at all. "I have to call the caterers-"

"Are you gonna yell at them too? Can I watch? And can you take off the blazer so we can admire what I'm sure is a disgustingly low cut top?" House leaned forward eagerly and she rolled her eyes at him.

"No. And no. And most definitely… no." She spoke sharply and he stood, pouting slightly.

"Oh fine – but see if I do you any favours any time soon." He moved slowly to the door and she watched him, her hand on the phone the entire time. She didn't lift the receiver until after the door closed and silence had reigned for three minutes. You could never be too sure with him.

* * *

"Eat me." 

"_Eaaat meeee!" _She jerked her head up blearily from the pile of files in front of her to see House, standing in front of her desk, swinging a paper bag back and forth.

"House- you scared the crap out of me." She spoke in a whisper – it seemed appropriate after all – it was late. She glanced at her clock tiredly. Shit. She didn't realize _how_ late.

"Good." He answered loudly and she winced at the sudden sound. "You look like crap – I'm pretty sure you haven't left your desk in the past three days and the only thing I've seen you consume is coffee. Hell, you're so malnourished I totally skipped all of my clinic hours this week and you didn't even yell at me. I'm feeling a bit neglected here." As he spoke – lectured really – he pulled a wrap and a salad out of the bag like a magician. Her stomach growled upon sight of the food. She reached out thankfully, opening the salad first and stabbing at the lettuce with the fork he handed her.

"I _noticed_ House. You can do double the hours next week to make up for it." She spoke quickly before shoving the food in her mouth and chewing.

"Oh sure. That'll happen. You'll be wearing a high necked dress tomorrow night too, huh? No?" He was pulling out two bottles of water as he spoke and she had to content herself with a glare, since she couldn't speak around the food. She ate silently for a few minutes, not speaking until the salad was gone, and she was halfway through the wrap.

"Thank you." She spoke sincerely and he glanced away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Whatever – we can't have you wasting away to nothing. I look forward to your lack of a dress every year – wouldn't want to deprive myself." She smiled knowingly and nodded.

"Then you'll love it this year." She finished off the wrap, wiping her fingers on a napkin and sighing before taking a sip of water. "I cannot wait for tomorrow to be over." She moaned slightly, dropping her head back.

"Why don't you just hire a planner? You don't even enjoy the damn thing-"

"Planners don't know what I want. And besides then mistakes get made- these are our top donors-"

"Yes, and I bet they'd appreciate a sane well rested Dean of Medicine schmoozing them, instead of a tired, wrung out one." She smiled at him softly, pushing away from her desk and stretching before picking up the files and shoving them in her briefcase. She could finish them at home. She had barely finished the thought though, when he was suddenly looming at her side, just as quickly pulling the files back out. "House!"

"Sleep. That's what normal people go home to do. Sleep. And masturbate. Lucky ones get laid – but I doubt that's happening for you tonight." He pulled the case out of her suddenly unresisting hands and she stared up at him as he set it below her desk. "Unless you wanted…"

She couldn't stop the smile if she tried and she felt the energy drain out of her as he straightened up and was too close for her comfort. "I need to finish-"

"They'll be there tomorrow. Don't make me go home with you." She could feel the heat from his body and she was suddenly so tired she could feel gravity working against her. Her shoulders slumped forward and she longed to sway into him – letting him support her weight as gravity pulled her to him. Her hands shot out and gripped the edge of her desk again as she shook her head. "I don't even now if I trust you to drive right now." His voice was a soft murmur by her ear and she shivered lightly.

"I'll be fine." She spoke softly and unconvincingly. Clearing her throat she dug deep for some untapped reserve of strength, standing up straight and tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "I'll be fine." It sounded better the second time – and apparently he thought so too. He nodded, stepping back and allowing her room to move past him, her shoulder brushing his chest as she did so. "Be fine." She muttered to herself as she dragged her coat off the rack and pulled it on clumsily. She didn't look back at him, only waving slightly over her shoulder as she dug for her keys in her pocket and walked out the door.

Leaving him in her office probably wasn't smart – but for some reason she trusted him at this moment. She frowned at the feeling lodged in her chest, hot and bright, wrapping it's way around her insides. She blinked, trying not to think about it too much. If he showed many more instances of this sudden niceness, she would be in more trouble than she could handle.

* * *

She looked… pale. She frowned at her reflection harshly, as if it would change to suit her needs. The dress looked good. It felt even better, all silk lined velvet that hugged her in just the right places. She had picked the color because it was one of her favourites to wear. She liked blue. More than she should. She frowned at the thought. She liked blue because it complimented her eyes_. And his._ She shook the thought away, rummaging through her makeup bag in a vain attempt to find something to make her look less pale. 

All she could find though was a tube of shimmer lotion that her niece had given her last Christmas – she was six and going through her girly phase. Shrugging she squeezed it onto her palm and began applying it to her chest and neck. It would be distracting at any rate. She sniffed as she worked it into her skin – it smelled like vanilla and cinnamon – she wrinkled her nose and sighed. Definitely picked out by a six year old. She glanced at her reflection in the small mirror again as she washed her hands. It looked… slightly better anyway.

She exited the small bathroom off her office and glanced at the clock on the wall. She had to get out there soon. She walked out into the transformed lobby – praying for no major emergencies that night – as she checked with the bar staff and then again with the caterers. So far, so good.

"You look really nice." Wilson's voice was pleasant at her elbow and she smiled over at him, thankful he was early. He could always be counted on.

"Thank you, you clean up nice yourself." She smiled back at him, glancing over his shoulder to where the doors were being opened and staff was waiting to take invitations. "I'll be glad when this is all over. Our table is over here." She waved him over to his seat, noticing when he set his coat on one next to him. "He'll be late." It wasn't a question and Wilson just winced apologetically up at her. She sighed, before shooting him a quick smile and wandering over to greet some of the more notable donors as they entered the doors.

He didn't arrive for another forty minutes, gliding up behind her as she stepped off the small stage to the left of the room after her welcome speech. Applause floated through the air, and she felt his body heat before she knew he was standing behind her. "You're right, I _really_ like this years." His mouth was by her ear and he was glancing down over her shoulder and enjoying the view – his left hand ghosting along the bare skin exposed at her back before he stepped back to a more acceptable distance as she nodded in greeting to another donor.

"You're late."

"I'm right on time for the poker, which is all I care about. Where's Wilson?" He was looking around the room when she turned, taking in his tuxedo and silver topped dress cane with a smile.

"Waiting at our table. Why House – did you _almost_ shave?" He ran a hand over his throat at her words, his expression thoughtful.

"I thought about it for almost seventeen minutes. Where's our table?" He moved along beside her as she weaved her way through the tables, careful not to let him lag behind – because he would more than likely attempt to touch her again – and she couldn't have that – not to mention the slight train on her dress. She wouldn't put it past him to 'accidentally' step on it.

They passed his fellows and she nodded politely, but he ignored any greetings they sent his way, finally having spotted Wilson. When they sat down, he pulled out a cigar and she shot him a glare. "Not lighting it." He held out his hands, and reached for the chips Wilson had set aside for him.

"You owe me five hundred bucks." Wilson spoke quickly and House rolled his eyes, the cigar clamped in his teeth. A waiter brought her chips over and she thanked him quietly. He placed water with lime juice at her elbow and she smiled again.

"What did you do to get that kind of service?" House complained and she looked across the table at him with a smile.

"Paid him."

"That's what they all say, but _we_ know you give it away for free." House pulled his cards toward him and she flashed him a brief grin, ignoring the four other people at their table. She had chosen her seat carefully – she had played enough poker with him over the years to know better than to sit anywhere within reaching distance of him. Best place was directly across the table, that way he could read her tells – even if she was giving them on purpose – and she could distract him.

"You know, there are other people at the table." Wilson muttered aside to House who simply smirked and nodded.

"I know – and we don't know _any_ of them. That's what makes it fun." He spoke slowly as the dealer called for opening bets.

She shook her head with a slight smile, pushing her chips in.

An hour later, her plan was working. She knew that House thought he knew all her tells. The straw swirling, the drink sipping – so all she had to do was use them misleadingly, combine them with a few leans forward, affording him mind numbing shots of her cleavage – and she was winning. A fact that he hated, she was sure. He was watching her carefully as the hand was dealt, and Wilson was staring at his rapidly dwindling pile of chips with a sad face.

"Twenty." Wilson finally bet with a resigned sigh, tossing the chips in. She fiddled with her straw more, calling immediately.

"You'll call anything." House spoke around his cigar and she smiled, glancing away and running her straw around the rim of the glass.

"My stack is bigger than your stack." She glanced across at him, and then away again wanting to laugh but unable to. Wilson just stared at both of them, a hand wiping across his face. The other four players folded right away – recognizing the signs after an hour of playing. He pulled his cards closer and she laughed slightly. "Are you in or out?"

"You know that relative to their size, gorillas have smaller testicles than humans?" He spoke to the table at large but his gaze rested on Wilson for a fraction too long and she grinned down at her drink. She still had the same water – but it wasn't there for actual thirst – she hated the flavour of lime and it was why she ordered it – to keep herself from drinking it. It was a tool to be used in the game – everything was planned for and she planned on taking it all this hand – despite what cards she had in her hand.

"Well then you'd probably have an edge over a gorilla, but not over me." She spoke wryly, and the fact that he ignored _that_ opening was proof he was targeting Wilson right now – and not her. She smiled wider.

"Reason is primate teste size inversely corresponds to the fidelity of our females." He was watching Wilson again as he spoke and she saw Wilson flinch slightly.

"You think there might be a better time to annoy me about my wife?" Wilson sighed, and House adopted an innocent look.

"I'm talking about poker-"

"Right." Wilson responded briefly. She was getting annoyed by the antics however, itching to continue the play so she could win already.

"Women are evil, you're right to drive them away." She snapped across the table as they both stared at her. "Call, fold or raise, story time can wait!" She waved a hand across the table and he smiled slightly at her impatientence. She cursed inwardly as a calculating gleam came into his eyes.

"We're smaller and better than chimps – bigger and worse than gorillas." House was watching Wilson again, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "For all our rationality, all our supposed trust and fealty to a higher power, our ability to create a system of rules and laws;" House leaned forward, really getting into his topic now. Wilson glanced across at her and she rolled her eyes. He transferred his gaze forward, attempting to ignore House. "-our baser drives are more powerful than _any_ of that. We want to control our emotions, but we can't. If we're happy, things don't annoy us." He paused for effect and she sighed, putting her glass down and wondering when the point would finally get here.

"If on the other hand, we're sitting on crappy hold cards, little tiny things annoy us a whole lot more." He leaned close to Wilson, who was staring ahead stony faced. House wiggled his cigar right in Wilson's face and she bit back a laugh as Wilson didn't even blink. "I raise." House threw in more chips and she wanted to exclaim 'finally!', but held back.

Wilson stared ahead for a beat, glanced at her once and then pushed all of his remaining chips into the center of the table. "I'm all in." She and House both stared at him for a beat and then two and she opened her mouth – about to match his bet when Dr.Wells appeared at her shoulder, looking out of place in his lab coat.

"Dr. Cuddy, I've got one of your patients down in the ER. Ian Alston, a six year old?"

She frowned across the table at House – but listened to Wells. "I know him-" she smiled at the memory of the sweet little boy and turned to Wells. "-what's the problem?"

"Bloody diarrhoea." He spoke in a lower tone, but not low enough not to be heard apparently as House seemed to perk up across the table. "Haemodynamically stable, but he's been developing some coordination problems." Her heart sank at his words – her first thought was gastroenteritis, but coordination problems could be neural or nervous. She glanced longingly at her chips in the center of the table, and down at her cards.

"I fold." She sighed finally, pushing back from the table, and nodding to Wells, who left ahead of her. "You'll have to excuse me, sorry." She smiled at the other occupants of the table, and turned away.

"I fold." House's voice spoke from behind her and she heard Wilsons' faint exclamation of excitement. She walked toward the other side of the hall, slipping through the doors that lead to the western wing of the hospital. The hallway was quiet and her heels seemed obscenely loud in the silence. They were soon joined by a tell tale thud though, and she slowed down unconsciously.

"What are you thinking?" His voice was by her ear and she shook her head, glancing over at him.

"I tend not to assume anything until I actually _see_ a patient House." They pushed open the doors at the end of the corridor, stepping into the glaringly bright lights of the ER together. Wells was already standing there, handing her a chart looking completely competent, and now they were the ones who were out of place. She flipped through the chart, musing aloud, because if she didn't he would just snatch it from her anyway. "He was on a class trip – needed the bathroom – lost large amounts of blood."

She walked across the ER, moving through a small hall to where the beds were for the Peds admissions. House moved ahead of her, taking the chart and reading quickly, before handing it back to her and sweeping the curtain aside. "Dr. Cuddy!" Sara, Ian's mother, looked up with a tense smile as they entered.

House however, ignored the parents and sat down in front of Ian on the bed. He put his finger on Ian's chin, and looked at the boy. "Follow my finger with your eyes." He instructed gently and she watched as Ian's eyes were unable to focus on the movement. Shit.

"Alan and Sara, this is Dr. House – he'll be… helping out." She spoke softly and Sara relaxed visibly upon hearing he was a doctor. House lifted his cane up and smiled at Ian.

"I want you to reach out and grab my cane." She bit her lip slightly as Ian was off to the right in his first attempt. It took him several tries before his small fingers wrapped around the silver.

"What does that mean?" Sara asked softly and she frowned over at her and then House. House reached in his pocket, pulling out his pill bottle and taking one as he nodded at her.

"It means Ian's brain is losing control of his muscles." She sighed softly, making a note in the chart as she spoke.

"Is he going to be okay?" Alan asked worriedly and she shot a warning glare at House as he stood up.

"We'll have to run some tests Alan." She spoke softly, and eased out of the cubicle after House. He was already heading for the bank of elevators speedily. "House!" She had to jog to keep up with him. "Don't assume-"

"Symptoms are the same."

"Three symptoms House. _Three._ You shouldn't go off of faulty assumptions –_you_ taught me that." She slipped onto the elevator with him, watching as he pressed the button for his floor. He looked at her thoughtfully, shaking his head.

"It's the same." He spoke surely and she sighed.

"House-" He ignored her and exited the elevator, moving swiftly to his office. When he pulled the file out – she knew just how long he had been obsessing over this. "It's not Esther."

"What if it is? What if it is the same – and we miss it and he dies? You shouldn't dismiss it just because it's far fetched." He was moving into the conference room now, opening Esther's file and reading through the yellowed sheets.

"You shouldn't rule out things in his case just because it didn't apply to her either. I'll... page the others." She spoke softly, leaving him in the room with the file and his whiteboard.

* * *

She waited in the darkened office for them to arrive. Talking to him now would only screw everything up – and she didn't need that. It was better to present her argument when others were present, and he couldn't push her buttons. Much. 

She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall and remembering. They had both been working here twelve years ago – she had been finishing her own fellowship – and it was the pre-Stacey days. She and House and Wilson had all been friends – they drank together, ate together. He had gone missing for three days when Esther came in. Didn't eat – didn't go home that she knew of – she just didn't see him. Until the end of the three days when Esther's time ran out before he could pull the white rabbit out of his hat.

He had shown up at her apartment, drunk. She had let him in, listened to him ranting about the family not allowing the autopsy – even then he _had _to know – let him drink more while she drank not at all. Let him bounce diagnosis off of her until three am. Had even let him kiss her for the first time – tasting of whiskey and salt and still intoxicating. It hadn't been the last time she let him. But it was a far as he got that night – sympathetic kisses, that trailed down her neck until he lay on top of her, breathing heavy and even as he passed out. She lied to herself then – telling herself it was comfort – and he needed it. She was in control and it wouldn't have gotten out of hand. It took four years for them to prove her lie oh so wrong.

When she emerged from her memories, she noticed Chase, Cameron and Foreman in the next room talking to House who had his back turned. She stood by the door, listening to him shooting down each and every idea any of them came up with. "This case is twelve years old." Cameron finally looked at the chart in her hand and she closed her eyes, listening.

"Yup." House was still writing Esther's symptoms on the board – all from memory.

"And this case is Cuddy's." Foreman spoke with Ian's file in his hand sceptically.

"She assigned it to me." House was snapping over his shoulder and Chase looked at him with disbelief.

"She agrees with you that this is something more than gastroenteritis?" Chase finally spoke slowly.

"Yes, I do." She finally spoke, stepping out of the office and into the conference room. "Ian is displaying neural symptoms. And while I don't agree that Ian and Esther's cases are related-" She shot a glance at House and he stared back at her for a moment.

"It's the same."

"Just like every other time?" She spoke with a raised brow and he shrugged, looking back to the whiteboard uncomfortably. "We don't _assume_anything."

"I want a colonoscopy." House finally spoke, looking at the whiteboard as he finished writing Esther's case history, underlining the word death.

"On a six year old kid who probably has nothing worse than food poisoning?" Cameron spluttered incredulously, looking over to her for confirmation.

"If you happen to find any purple papules do me a favour and grab a slice. I want to test for Erdheim – Chester." House wasn't watching Cameron, who was still looking to her for affirmation. She bit her lip, and House finally looked over to her. "We need to find the cause of the bleeding." He stated simply. She swallowed, and nodded at the three fellows who looked shocked, but filed out of the room never the less. The silence left in their wake was suddenly heavy and she wandered over to the table, sitting in a chair there.

"It's not Erdheim – Chester." She finally spoke softly.

"We don't know that." He was standing directly in front of the whiteboard, directly in front of her.

"In a six year old? The mean age is fifty-three-"

"It could be it though. Just because no one else has been young – Esther wasn't…"

"House." Her voice was a whisper and she put a hand up, brushing the back of his jacket along his waist lightly. He turned toward her with a sigh, pulling a chair in front of hers and sitting in it. She stared at him with large eyes and he ran a hand down his face.

"This _is_ it. I feel it."

"Not every white whale is Moby Dick." She spoke softly, wanting to reach out to him, but unable to make her hand make the journey from where it fell in her lap to where his own rested.

"Even Ahab saw him again eventually." She didn't need to respond to that – they both knew how it had ended. "Shouldn't you be back with the donors? I can- I'll handle this-" She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness, but didn't. As if she'd leave him alone to do whatever the hell he pleased with her patient.

"Ian is my patient House. Still my patient." He nodded, seeming to accept her answer before gripping his cane and standing.

"I'm going to wait in the lab. Are you-" she shook her head no before he even asked.

"Alan and Sara will need to be spoken to. To... I don't know... explain?" She didn't even know how she would go about it, but she knew it was her responsibility to bear. "Page me, House. I _mean _it." He nodded once, before he exited the room abruptly and she watched him go with a heavy sigh. Her eyes turned to the whiteboard, and the word at the bottom. Death. She didn't pray often but she closed her eyes and willed it not to happen. Not to Ian. "Let him be wrong." She whispered.

* * *

She was waiting with Ian's parents when House and Chase walked back into the room. Chase spoke first – informing them the test was negative while House ignored them all in favour of checking Ian's catheter bag. When he held it up, she cursed inwardly for not noticing. "What's that?" Alan asked in a fearful voice as he gripped Sara's hand. 

"Urine." House answered simply. Chase stared without speaking.

"It's brown…" Alan spoke in confusion and she glanced at them seriously.

"It means Ian's kidneys are failing." She spoke gently and House and Chase were out of the room before she could even finish the sentence. "We'll have to start him on dialysis, which means we need to perform a small surgery to place a fistula in Ian to give us access to the blood. We can do it with a local aesthetic, or if you prefer we can put him under-"

"Will he need that for the rest of his life?" Alan asked in horror and she put a hand on his arm.

"Once the kidney's fail there is no way of reversing the damage already caused. Dialysis can keep Ian alive for a long time – possibly until a transplant is an option."

"But we still don't know what's wrong with him right? We don't know _why_ this is happening?" Sara's voice was trembling and she nodded tightly.

"I'll go schedule him for the fistula. We can sit down and discuss the options in choosing which form of dialysis you'd prefer." She left the room silently, sending another plea up to the heavens as she went.

* * *

"You hijacked him for an MRI?!" She found House in his office and he looked up as she entered. "And you're treating him for liver failure – even though he doesn't technically have liver failure. What part of the words 'he's my patient' did you not get?" 

"Liver was next in line. We have to protect it." He was playing with a poker chip, making it appear and disappear under his hands and she threw her hands up in frustration.

"Oh well then, since you know everything that's going to happen, tell me this: what happens to a six year old boy whose kidneys don't work and _isn't_ on dialysis?" She moved into the room angrily and he stood, stepping into her path.

"You can do the dialysis later Cuddy! If the kid is the same as Ester in three days he'll be dead! His kidneys can wait!" He was shouting now too, leaning down in her face as she glared up at him, chest heaving. He had taken his tie off, and his suit jacket was somewhere in the darkened office.

"Oh so it's better to let him suffer-"

"To prevent death? Let me think about it for a minute. _Yeah!_" She growled low in the back of her throat stepping closer to him until she was practically touching him.

"He is a six year old boy House! You may look at him and see a puzzle you can't solve but I see a scared little boy. The meds are too much for him to take all at once and he'll-"

"He went into respiratory distress." Chase interrupted them and they both looked over to the doorway, shocked. "We had to intubate him. His platelet levels also dropped." House stepped back from her abruptly, moving back over to the whiteboard and writing furiously.

"He skipped liver failure. It makes no sense – now he's here – but that was only a few hours before she died." He was muttering and drawing and she walked over, jerking the marker from his hands. Chase followed and Cameron and Foreman had entered the room now too.

"He is _not_ Esther!" She hollered in his face and he reached out, pushing the whiteboard until it hit a vase, and then the floor.

"You are going to let him die if you take me off this Cuddy-"

"Then start treating the god damned symptoms he _has_ instead of worrying about the one's he _doesn't_!" They were screaming again, and again she was standing too close. All three fellows looked terrified, but House stopped, breathing deeply for a moment.

"Chase-" He indicated the whiteboard on the floor and Chase sprang into action, lifting it up and righting it gently. House stood in front of it, holding his hand out for the marker she was currently gripping so tight her hands were white. She took a steadying breath, feeling the anger drain out of her body – leaving her skin paler than it had been – and handed the marker to him, her hand brushing his in silent apology. "He's back on Esther's path – we managed to make the train skip a few stations which means instead of twelve hours he's got less than two." He shot a glance at her and sighed. "Probably." He tapped the marker thoughtfully along his mouth. "Question is – what did we do?"

"Acetylcysteine could mess with the lungs." Chase offered and she shook her head in response.

"Not in that short of a time." She spoke, taking a step to the side and away from House, her eyes scanning the other doctor's.

"Interferon moderates the immune system. It could affect a cancer of the blood like one of the leukemia's." Cameron was speaking now but Foreman was shaking his head.

"Wouldn't speed them up it would slow them down."

"All five hundred?" Cameron shot back and she and House both sighed in concession.

"Page Wilson." He spoke to no one in particular, but she was the one automatically moving toward the other room before the words had died on his lips.

* * *

She didn't go to the lab with them, instead opting once again to be the bearer of bad news to Alan and Sara. Or the bearer of non-news in this case, as she sure as hell wasn't going to mention leukemia until Wilson confirmed or denied. She stood outside his room now, watching the empty bed and trying to remember how to breathe. 

"Not leukemia." Wilson spoke from behind her and her shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "House is thinking Kawasaki's now."

"Kawasaki's? But that doesn't affect the elderly-" she frowned and Wilson sighed in disgust behind her.

"Don't tell me you are subscribing to this insane idea as well?!" He took her by the elbow, leading her down the hall as he spoke. "House is acting insane. And not in Ian's best interests. I'd thought that _you_ of all people would-"

They entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the bottom floor. "Would what Wilson? Yank at House's leash? I've thought about it – and honestly if he went too far I would. But the possibility remains - even if it is slight as hell – that House is right and he's the only one who can save him."

"And what if he's wrong?" Wilson spoke quietly as they stepped into the lobby. She headed for her office and he followed her intently, like a dog at her heels. "What if Ian's case is nothing like Esther's and all you're doing is killing him?"

She reached for her lab coat, pulling it off its hook and shrugging it on over her dress. She stared down at the collar, fingering where the shimmer lotion had rubbed off her skin and onto the pristine white fabric. What if she was killing Ian? Allowing her opinion of House to cloud her opinion of the case? What if –

"We all know how hard he took Esther the first time-"

"No _we _all don't know Wilson." She finally snapped over her shoulder, turning to glare at him. "_We_ didn't listen to him rant and cry for four hours that night – _we_ didn't pull him together and help him try to figure it out and _we_ did not-" she stopped short, hearing the anger clouding her voice. "I did that. I sat here, in this office and listened each time the next Esther came along. Tell me something Wilson, if House is so obsessed – why did those other patients live?"

"Because-" he stammered out eventually after staring at her with an open mouth for a moment. "-because House found out what was wrong with them."

"He didn't just kill them trying to make their disease fit Esther's?" Wilson shook his head and she sighed softly in the dark room. "He's not doing it to Ian either – nobody knows how much he wants to save this little boy."

"You do." Wilson spoke after a long moment of silence.

"I-" she paused, faltering for words for a moment before continuing on. "I need you to go to the fundraiser and just... be me for a few hours. I know you have the charm. Please?" He nodded and left her dark office and she sighed heavily, not bothering to turn on any lights. Her chest felt heavy – like a lead weight had crawled in and lodged there – blocking her airway. When she had wished the evening over as quickly as possible earlier, she had no idea just how badly she would want it to come true. Smoothing damp hands down her velvet dress, she moved back to the doorway with a sigh. Alan and Sara would want an update.

* * *

Eight minutes. 

She read the chart – listened to the nurse and tried to breathe in and out.

_Eight minutes_.

Brain damage would be the least of their worries – but – oh God, eight minutes. The thought was a pulse in her brain as she turned and headed for the elevator. Eight minutes. Eight minutes. She took the stairs instead, hoping that the anger would somehow drain away as she laboured up the stairs in high heels. Eight. Minutes. Eight. Minutes.

He had re-done the test. Eight minutes and he had continued. Eight. Minutes. She practically flung open the stairwell door – not caring that he would hear her coming. He couldn't run fast enough. Eight. Minutes. When she stood in the doorway and saw him in front of the whiteboard like he hadn't just technically killed a six year old boy, she saw red. Eight minutes.

"Are you out of your mind? He will have brain damage – _brain damage_ House!" His back stiffened upon hearing her enter and he turned around like a guilty schoolboy. "You kept going? You had to shock him god knows how many times – how much more can this kid take before you'll admit you're wrong?" All of the fears Wilson had awakened earlier were suddenly in her mind, screaming at her.

"I had to do it to save him." He finally responded and she stood there, flabbergasted.

"To save him? _To save him?_" She was screeching now and she didn't even care anymore. She wanted to hurt him. "His heart _failed_ because you were doing a biopsy! And did you stop? No. Did you give him recovery time, check to see what his vitals were- no you went right ahead again after his heart stopped beating for-" She was in front of him now, hitting him with her hands as he stood there and took it._"Eight. Goddamn. Minutes!"_

She finally stopped, the haze clearing from her eyes as she stood in front of him with disappointment. "He's not dead yet." He pointed out simply and she shuddered at his tone, meeting his eyes for the first time and letting him see everything in hers. Anger. Guilt. Pain.

"No, but you are done with him. You don't go near Ian again – do you understand me?" His eyes were pleading with her – for understanding or reconsideration – she didn't know and she didn't care. She suddenly felt hollow and fragile, about to shatter at any given moment. She looked away from him, convinced that if she looked into his eyes any longer she would shatter, a million scattered pieces and she had to get away. Pushing him away – and when had his hands come up around her arms like that anyway? – she turned and walked blindly from the room. How did she save a little boy when she had no clue what was wrong with him? And if she _couldn't_ save him – how did she watch a child die?

* * *

She found House in his room less than an hour later. The anger had – mostly – drained away now, leaving her at a loss as how to deal with him. He wasn't testing him – she had been running as many tests as she could think of for whatever would cause masses in his heart – all to no avail. She felt useless. And unfit, for more than just one thing. 

He was sitting with Ian, just watching him and the curve of his spine made her want to cry – but she didn't. "You want me to leave?" His voice was soft and she stood behind him, unsure what exactly to say. _No? Save him, please?_ Instead she opted for nothing, simply watching as House stood slowly, and moved up to her. "Parents?"

"Praying." She barely managed a choked whisper and he nodded slowly. He didn't believe – but there was no point in arguing about it. Not now. "House..." her whisper was drawn out and he looked down at her for a moment, and dropped a hand on her shoulder, before he brushed past her silently.

She stood for a moment, stricken, before she sat where he had been, taking Ian's small hand in hers. She couldn't think of any more tests. She had tested for everything – including a few that seemed ridiculously far fetched as they wandered across her mind. She was exhausted, but her mind was still working furiously, trying to come up with something. Anything.

But nothing would come.

So instead she sat – and held his hand and watched him dying as she fought to think of a solution. What kind of doctor was she? If she couldn't-

She didn't know how long she sat there – stretching her mind past it's limits, berating herself all the while – but when Cameron burst in with a smile, she felt a leap of joy somewhere deep within her.

"We tested for Erdheim-Chester again." Cuddy opened her mouth but Cameron continued before she could speak. "It was positive." She exhaled, all of the air leaving her lungs in one fell swoop as Cameron continued into the room, bearing an IV full of corticosteroids. She attached the bag to the IV pole and smiled at Cuddy as she walked out again, a triumphant bounce to her step.

"What was that?" Sara and Alan entered the room and she blinked back tears quickly, smiling at them widely.

* * *

She was on her way to the parking lot when she saw him at the piano. She had taken off her shoes – finally – and her lab coat was hung in her office again. Workers were clearing away the tables and chairs from the event she had completely missed, but he was sitting at the piano, playing something she had never heard before. He didn't play for people often – she could count the amount of times he had played in her presence on one hand. Her feet lead her over to the piano almost of their own will. She had looked in the mirror before exiting her office – saw how her hair was flat now and her eye shadow had disappeared – she looked bone tired. She stood there, waiting for something. Anything. 

He slid over to the right and she took the invitation, sitting to his left and turning to watch his hands run up and down the keys skilfully. The lobby was rapidly emptying, an odd pocket of quiet between the morning shift coming in and the fundraiser workers leaving. They were tucked into an unobtrusive corner, shielded from view partially by the wall behind them.

He played for a while before the music finally died in the hush of the empty hall. She swallowed, and met his eyes. They were surprisingly warm, and he smiled at her slightly. "Thank you." She finally whispered and he leaned closer to hear her.

"For what?"

"Killing the whale?" She shrugged and his shoulder brushed against hers. His coat was back on now – black sharply contrasting against the white of his shirt. His top buttons were undone and she found her eyes focusing there – on the base of his throat, watching his pulse and counting in her head.

"I almost killed him. And if you hadn't forced me down to three tests – I might have missed it." She laughed shortly, the sound catching at the back of her throat.

"I don't feel very accomplished."

"Neither do I. Just… relieved." His hands rested on the keys again, but didn't move this time and she smiled up at him. "Wilson won the poker tournament."

"He did? I hope everything went well…" She mused aloud and he chuckled.

"I'm sure you managed to rape lots of money out of the alcoholic gamblers. Are you heading home?" She nodded, but made no move to get up; simply leaned closer until gravity took over and her chest met his shoulder, seeking support there. She didn't mention it – or try to move and he didn't pull away, simply allowing her to rest there.

"May I never repeat a night like this ever again." He nodded with a slight laugh and she closed her eyes tiredly. "House…." He glanced down at her and she looked up at him drowsily. "You could write a paper on Ian. There's only 200 documented cases of – and none in someone so young."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while until he nudged her with his shoulder and she sat up slightly. His arm moved down behind her waist and his hand traced along her back, fingers softly skirting along her skin. She stopped breathing, concentrating on just the feel of his hands, rough and warm – almost hot – against her sensitive skin. They didn't touch for a reason – one they both seemed to have forgotten at the moment. She tilted her head until she was looking at his throat again, warm and strong – the pulse there leaping just slightly faster than normal. The mere knowledge that it was affecting him too caused her insides to melt into a pool settling low in her groin. She moaned slightly, almost inaudibly, but he must have heard her because his back stiffened and his hand pressed flat against her lower back, imprinting her skin there.

She licked her too dry lips and swallowed heavily, her limbs suddenly heavy with a satiated feeling. She wanted to press her mouth against his throat – where his pulse jumped or the smooth spot behind his ear that had always driven him wild – causing fingers to grip so tight they bruised – in good ways. At times like these – when he so completely understood her in ways she didn't even understand herself, she wondered… _why not?_

They had been a case of bad timing, not bad chemistry. Lord knew they had that in spades. His hand was inching left and her breath hitched in her throat as it slid beneath the fabric of her dress, inching to a stop just above her hip. It was the only thing touching her – just his hand. But his hands were capable of small miracles at times and she felt like she was on fire from just that one point of contact. Her nipples were hardening against the soft fabric of her dress and her breaths were shallower, as his grew deeper. He leaned over slightly, craning his neck and inhaling and she almost came undone as she felt his breath against her hair and neck.

"Vanilla..." he muttered, drawing back to a safer distance, his hand still firmly in place, and she wondered how much lower down he would inch. _How much lower would she let him?_

"Hey guys. Heading out?" Wilson spoke from behind them and she had to concentrate not to jump guiltily. They were sitting... closer than usual, but not so close Wilson would suspect anything. There was nothing to suspect. Right?

"Yeah. I'm taking tomorrow off." House spoke finally when it appeared she wasn't going to. His hand slid away from her silently, almost imperceptibly – and she missed it as soon as it was gone.

"Me too." She sighed finally and both men looked at her in shock. "What? I'm exhausted, and the paperwork can wait one day."

"Are you feeling okay?" House joked and she smiled at him, suddenly feeling much lighter than she had in days.

"Why are you going to write me a prescription?" She teased gently and he smiled slightly back at her.

"Weren't you two at each other's throats all night? God you're confusing." Wilson sighed dramatically and House stood, offering her a hand that she took to stand.

"You've known us for how long, Wilson?" She spoke dryly as they walked toward the entrance.

"Long enough to wish you would just get it over with." Wilson muttered and she faltered, her bare feet tripping on her long skirt. She recovered, and decided to ignore that. House seemed to agree, even if silently – as he stomped along between she and Wilson.

"Well, I'm going home. Goodnight, boys." She smiled slightly, turning in her still bare feet and crossing to her car. Behind her she heard House address Wilson.

"So, are you in the mood for some poker?" And she smiled – knowing that Wilson would be broke by the time the sun fully rose. As long as it wasn't her.


	15. Exhausted

A/N: Okay I know - again - it's been a while. But I have a ready made list of excuses, some of which you'll (hopefully) love. Number one is I was on vacation. So I was writing but not posting. Number two is I am currently writing the backstory for House and Cuddy as it relates to this fic. We won't see it until the next fic in this series (yes I said seri_es_) but I am slaving away on it and it is slowly driving me insane. My beta however, is totally keeping me together. You can thank her for poking me about updating this again before I lost my mind. She is freaking amazing - and any mistakes lef tin this after she edited the shit out of it, are my own oversights.  
**Beta:** The fabulous, practically perfect in every way Alias424 who keeps me sane, and also writes fabulously all on her own. So many thanks to her for taking the time to indulge my crazy.

* * *

She stared at the file in front of her; the one that Brenda had laid there not fifteen minutes ago, and stifled a laugh. She was exhausted – she was having trouble sleeping again – a fact she blamed on too much coffee and too many thoughts circling the edges of her mind like sharks. Frowning, she took a sip of coffee from the paper cup next to her. If caffeine could kill you, she was in trouble. The liquid was tepid and bitter, but she swallowed it anyway, idly flipping through the file in front of her.

She finally stood up with a sigh, pulling her suit jacket on and buttoning it up before picking up the file and moving out of her office. She headed toward the clinic slowly – she had seen him enter it remarkably early this morning. Early for him anyway.

"Dr. Cuddy." One of the nurses approached her and she frowned trying to remember her name. Her mind was drawing a blank, however, and it wasn't until she could read the ID badge on the woman's pocket that she responded.

"Yes, Nurse Mitchell?" Maybe the nurse was a new hire – after all she could hardly be expected to keep up with every single hire – especially when she wasn't the one doing the hiring.

"Dr. House has been in exam room three for almost two hours, but has only seen one patient so far." The nurse spoke directly and Cuddy smiled at her. Clearly one of Brenda's charges, if she knew already to report House's activities to her.

"Thank you, Alice. I'll go take care of that." Her name finally clicked as she remembered Brenda discussing the newest hires three days ago over lunch. The nurse, Alice, beamed and nodded before heading back to the desk and returning to the filing she had been completing before Cuddy had come out of her office.

Cuddy opened the door and frowned – it was dark. Flicking the light on, she sighed in annoyance. House was asleep – with the most recent copy of the Midwest Journal of Experimental Medicine over his face. She wondered if he had actually read it – before using it as a convenient sleep mask. Probably not – just as he probably hadn't read the article Foreman had submitted to it this month, despite the fact he'd had to sign off on it at some point. She stepped into the room fully, slamming the door behind her and enjoying it when he jumped suddenly.

He pulled the journal down, blinking in the suddenly bright light and frowning. "You've seen one patient in the last two hours." She complained out of necessity, rather than actual annoyance. It wasn't why she was here, but it still had to be pointed out. She walked as she spoke and he looked over his shoulder at her with a curious expression.

"Complicated case." His voice was low and she stopped in front of him as he tucked the journal by his side. "I'm a night owl, Wilson's an early bird. We're different species." He spoke in a tired voice as he rolled over, turning his back to her. She glared at his shoulders as he did it.

"Move him into his own cage." She spoke in exasperation. It wasn't the first time House had complained about Wilson's habits – he had been spending more and more time with her in the last week. He was part of the reason she wasn't sleeping well actually. He kept coming over, as if this were normal, and spending time with her, showing her exactly what she would be giving up. He was the largest shark circling her mind, at constant war with the rest of her thoughts.

"Who will clean the droppings from mine?" he retorted, perfectly unaware of her own thoughts as he laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

She circled the head of the exam table and shoved the file in his face. "Twenty-five-year-old female, with sleep issues." He lifted his head and took the file from her since he really had no choice.

"I'm guessing she's... oh, what's the medical term for it?" He spoke sarcastically, staring at her. "Upset!" He opened the file and glanced down as she stared at him, trying to dredge up annoyance but unable to. It was too much effort anyway. "Those twenty-five-years-olds are completely rational. They're rocks, really." He was looking up at her again before dropping his eyes to the file before him. "Ugh..." He pulled a face as he read, before closing the file and handing it back to her. "My theory seems to be supported by the fact that she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills." He shoved the file into her hands and rolled onto his back. "Get her a shrink, and I need some shut eye." He rolled over and she circled the foot of the exam table.

"She's a little more than upset." He had his eyes closed as she spoke, ignoring her. "She hasn't slept in ten days."

"She's lying." He spoke without opening his eyes and she moved up to the side of the table again, where she had stood originally. She rolled her eyes and he opened his, catching her. "Without REM sleep , your neurons stop regenerating. The brain shuts down lobe by lobe. She'd be insane after five days, dead by ten." He rubbed a hand across his face as he spoke and she sighed in response. As if she'd bring him a completely boring file. He should know better by now.

"Give me a little credit, I know what gets you off." She spoke in a lower tone and he blinked, his head lifting as he stared at her in surprise. She cursed inwardly – they usually didn't mention things like that – but it had been a slip of the tongue. However, she had his attention now, and continued. "She took the pills to sleep, not to kill herself."

He frowned, listening to her. "Clever alibi."

"They didn't work." She had him now, she knew. "She stayed awake, even though she downed the whole bottle." She held the file out in front of her, knowing she had him. He looked down for a moment before sighing and taking it from her. He didn't open it, but simply tucked it at his side, on top of the discarded journal.

"Can we go back to the knowing what gets me off statement? Because technically, there _is _a lock on the door and – "

"You are aware there is a stop watch on this patient, right?" She crossed her arms and glared at him, but it wavered after only a moment.

"Oh yeah, sure, sure. It's just – I'm tired – "

"I know. You've complained about it. Lots." She spoke dryly, but he ignored her.

"And I think so much better after... release, if you know what I mean." He winked comically at her and she shook her head, laughing under her breath.

"House – "

"How have you been sleeping? I mean, because if you're tired too – then that's just perfect." He was watching her as he spoke and she rolled her eyes, leaning across him and picking up the file again.

"If you don't want the case I have several other doctors – "

"Who would screw it up and kill her." He cut her off before snatching the file back from her and grabbing her wrist to keep her in close proximity. She froze, finding herself held against him, barely a millimetre of space between his body and hers. She stopped breathing as her heart jumped and his eyes watched her, always knowing. His fingers traced a familiar pattern on her wrist and she stared back at him with challenge – refusing to back down. "We both know your threats are empty anyway." His voice was a whisper across her face, the breeze stirring her hair as she maintained eye contact. Finally, he dropped her wrist and she stepped back as quickly as she could without appearing to run. It was pointless though, his eyes gleamed as he watched her – he was more than familiar with her pattern.

She turned on her heel and began walking to the door and he made no effort to stop her. "And the longest anyone has survived without sleep is eleven days. Which gives you about twenty-two hours." She didn't look back as she opened the door and stepped through it – but she could feel his eyes on her the whole way. The feeling of being watched didn't dissipate until the door clicked shut behind her.

* * *

"House... not again." She pulled open her door and stared at him with a sigh.

"I can't go home. I need to be alert for my case and – "

"Go home. And by home, I mean _your_ home, not mine." She was speaking in exasperated tones, but she still stepped back from the door, allowing him to follow her in.

"But you have... well, other than the really fun things to play with, like your lingerie drawer, not much. But you let me sleep!" She sighed as she moved back into her living room and settled into her armchair again. She turned her attention back to her laptop and the expenditure reports she had been looking over before he had rung her bell.

"You know that there are on-call rooms at the hospital," she said dryly, and he stretched out on her couch before turning to look at her with an expression of disgust.

"Do you know what the interns do in there?" He spoke in a horrified tone. "Other interns," he whispered and shuddered. "Besides, people are always in and out of there – and I have standards, you know."

"So an exam table – "

"Hey, those things are comfy. Go you! We should try them out sometime – "

" – or my couch – " she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "are better options than a bed. Or say – _your _bed. It's a half-decent time, if you went home now, Wilson would be asleep and so would you. Problem solved." She shrugged and continued reading while he looked at her.

"I can't."

"You're avoiding him," she sing-songed, and he rolled his eyes at her before crossing his ankles and tossing his cane on the coffee table beside him.

"Am not."

"Sure. Why are you here again?" She spoke in a sarcastic mutter and he put his hands under his head.

"Heard you needed some stress relief. It's a dirty job – a _very_ dirty job – but luckily I like to get my, uh... _hands_ dirty." She glared at him as he smirked and sighed in disgust.

"God, go to sleep," she snapped, and he grinned harder and closed his eyes.

"Not God. Just Greg."

"As if," she muttered and his laughter was muffled. She continued to read her report, the room only lit by the small lamp to her left and the glow from her computer screen. A few minutes later, she heard the sound of soft snoring coming from the couch. She glared over at him for a moment, but it soon softened as she watched him sleep. He did look tired, the lines in his face more drawn than usual. He looked his age – something she almost never saw when looking at him. He let out a particularly loud snore and her gaze sharpened. "I am so waking you the second you get paged," she muttered to herself before tuning him out and paying attention to her glowing screen once more.

* * *

"Do you think I'm an ass?" He walked in, unannounced and uninvited – as usual.

"Yes." She didn't look up from the forms she was signing as she spoke. She heard him drop into the chair in front of her and she sighed.

"Fair enough. Do you think Foreman is an ass?"

"Yes." She spoke again without thinking, finally sighing and looking across at him. "What's this about, House?"

"Foreman wrote an article."

"Yes, I read it. I'm amazed you were aware, however – since you don't usually give a rat's ass." She tapped her pen against the paper in front of her as she spoke, looking at him with a slight amount of exasperation.

"Cameron wrote an article," he said, and she frowned at the statement.

"And..? What does that have to do anything?"

"Oh. I'll put it in context for you. Cameron wrote an article. Asked me to read it. Three months later, Foreman wrote an article – same case – asked me to sign off on it... Do you see where I'm going with this?" He leaned forward as he spoke, resting his chin on his cane and rubbing his thigh absent-mindedly. She watched with concern – just lately it seemed like he had been taking more pills and getting fewer results. It worried her, but she tried to keep her focus on his words.

"So... basically your point is that you did what you always do – Foreman was a jackass and I _really_ don't want to run into Cameron today?"

"Well... yes. Cameron thinks I should have spent less time contemplating your breasts and more time giving her a heads up." His eyes dropped to the breasts in question and she glared at him, stifling a smile.

"Well, why doesn't she just ask you to stop breathing, too?" she muttered sarcastically – a fact that seemed to sail over his head as he nodded and sank back into the chair.

"Exactly!" He fell into silence and she stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't though, simply sighed and started playing with random items on the edge of her desk – a rubber band, and a pencil that had rolled out of range.

"House," she finally said in irritation. He looked up, seemingly innocent.

"What?"

"Was there anything else?" She spoke slowly and he shook his head.

"No. Treating the patient for Wegener's. I just don't want to go back to my office because she'll be there – all morally righteous and you know how I hate that."

"Uh huh." She ignored him, glancing down at the papers in front of her and rubbing a hand over her face. "Some of us have work to do that we can't assign to lackeys."

"Yeah." He sighed, picking up the rubber band and wrapping it around his fingers. "Wilson's avoiding me."

"How would you know? Haven't you been avoiding him and napping everywhere?" she shot back, and he glared at her mockingly as he ran the rubber band around his fingers.

"Well yeah – but normally he finds me. He wasn't even around to pay for my lunch today," he huffed, and she rolled her eyes.

"Again – I am not your marriage counsellor – go find Wilson and bug him."

"Can't." He spoke petulantly. "He's all well-rested and chipper."

"Then get back at him."

"Did that – it wasn't nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be."

"Then kick him out. Here, I'll show you how." She threw her hands up in frustration as she spoke. "Get the hell out!"

"Don't you think that's harsh – I mean he did just go through a – " He cocked his head as he spoke and she glared at him, cutting him off.

"No. I meant get the hell out. Now, House!" He stopped, before smiling slightly and standing, rubber band still in hand.

"Oh fine. Some kind of friend you are," he huffed as he moved toward the door and she stared at him, fighting not to mention the visits he was paying to her house every second day. During which he ate half of her food and complained about being tired, usually napping through a good solid three hours of it before she kicked him out, stating that he was in no way, shape or form allowed to 'sleep over.'

"Bye." She spoke sarcastically instead, and he shot her an amused glance over his shoulder.

"See you tonight!" he called loudly as he opened the door – startling her secretary and then slamming the door behind him, leaving her in her blissfully quiet office with a stack of budget forms.

* * *

Cuddy was doing her rounds when Nurse Mitchell approached her, holding out files and stopping in front of her. "Dr. Cuddy, these are the clinic hours from yesterday. They need to be signed." She smiled brightly as she spoke, and Cuddy winced from the effervescence of it.

She took the files, glancing through them quickly. House's hours had been adjusted, taking off the hour and a half he had slept through. She smiled at Nurse Mitchell and decided she might like her after all. She signed the form, handing the files back to Alice. "These look great, thank you." Out of the corner of her eye she saw House bearing down on her and she sighed. He had wasted enough of her time this morning. Nurse Mitchell sped off just as he arrived, and Cuddy continued down the hall.

"Need your help." He fell into step beside her and she frowned down at the files she was still carrying.

"Inexplicable rash on a patient's scrotum you need me to look at?" she asked bitterly, but adjusted her speed to accommodate his.

"Twenty-seven-year-old female wants to donate half her liver to her dying girlfriend." He didn't respond to her jab, surprisingly and she frowned across at him.

"That's... generous. Is this the sleepless girl? I thought she had Wegener's this morning. What's she got now?" She continued walking, only glancing at him once.

"Liver failure," he answered obviously and she looked up with a frown.

"Sort of figured that out when you said she needed a new liver," she muttered, making her way to the nurses' station and stopping. She put down the file she was holding and turned to him. "You don't have a diagnosis," she stated, staring at him. This wasn't usual.

"The transplant buys me time." He was looking at her seriously and she stared at him incredulously. A transplant as a stop-gap when there was no solution was insane. He knew that, though – that's why he was giving her the eyes.

"Let's just skip the part where I say this is insane."

"It was her idea." He spoke quickly and she wanted to laugh at that – like he seriously expected her to believe it.

"If she wants to be an idiot, it's her call. You don't need me. Have... one of your team walk you through the process." She began to walk away when he spoke again.

"The donor and the donee sort of have opposing interests, right? Can't really advise them both." She turned when he began speaking and stayed rooted to the spot in shock. She narrowed her eyes at him – this was a trick, right?

"You're concerned about the ethics of this?" Her tone was incredulous and she continued staring at him hard. He glanced away, avoiding her gaze – which was hardly a good sign. "What's going on?" She spoke in a low tone, watching him closely. "What do you know?"

"Nothing medically relevant," he said finally, glancing at her as the half-truth left his mouth.

"But you know something," she stated simply. "And it is relevant." He sighed, and looked at the floor for a second before responding to her.

"If I can't tell her, I can't really tell you now can I?" For once his voice was devoid of its usual sarcasm. "And if you're advising her..." He trailed off and she took a deep breath. This could be bad. For the hospital, for her – Lord knows the number of things House could hide and consider 'not medically relevant.'

"I'm assuming the information is in the medical file." She rounded the desk as she spoke, moving to the computer.

"_My_ patient's _confidential _file," he responded, turning to her as she arrived.

"This _hospital's_ file." She was typing as she spoke and he startled her when he grabbed the monitor, turning it toward him. She looked up at him silently.

"You can either satisfy your curiosity, or remain ignorant, do nothing _ethically_ wrong and my patient doesn't die in three hours." His eyes held hers as he spoke, oddly serious. When he finished speaking, he turned the monitor back to her, but she didn't look at it, instead keeping her eyes on his. He waited, not looking away and she found herself oddly touched by his small gesture of trust. She looked at him for a minute more before sighing softly.

"What's the patient's name? Mine, not yours," she added, and he smiled slightly across at her.

"Chase has the file." His tone was soft and she smiled back at him slightly.

"I'll go get it," she said finally, turning around and walking away from the desk. She felt his eyes on her again and she shook her head slightly, wondering how exactly he talked her into these things. It had to be the eyes.

* * *

"Hi Max, I'm Dr. Cuddy." She smiled warmly as she entered the prep room after donning the gowns needed and getting the chart from Chase.

"Hi." Max smiled nervously and she waited until the nurse was done attaching the IV line.

"I'm just going to be doing a few tests and talking to you about some things today. The tests I'll be doing include an echocardiogram to check your heart, a test for your lungs – "

"Are we going to have time for those?" Max whispered, smiling nervously, and Cuddy nodded reassuringly, adjusting her IV line.

"These tests and counselling normally happen over weeks, sometimes months." She spoke softly, adjusting the drip as she spoke and then looking at Max.

"It's okay." Max's voice was soft, and Cuddy looked at the girl seriously.

"The most important part we're skipping is time. Time for you to change your mind." She said quietly, putting her hand on Max's.

"I don't want to change my mind," Max protested stubbornly.

"Not now, but with time and perspective maybe we learn things..." she began, but Max cut her off, her voice high.

"If we had the time, we'd take the time but we don't. So can we just get this over with please?" Her tone caused Cuddy to frown down at her.

"Either I sign off on this, or it doesn't happen." She spoke shortly, her irritation peeking through. She took a breath, softening her tone before she continued. "So I need you to listen to me. Because there is a chance you will die on that operating table."

Max's eyes filled with tears and she looked up at her fearfully. After a moment, she spoke, looking up at Cuddy pleadingly. "I just want me and Hannah to be able to lie in bed together as old ladies. Compare scars." The longing in Max's voice was so familiar to Cuddy she had to blink for a moment. She recognized that feeling, recognized that desperate wish. She sighed, nodding and removing her hand from Max's.

"I need you to lie on your back, with your right hand under your head," she said softly, opening Max's gown and talking as she went. "I'm going to numb the area, so you'll feel a small prick and then a slight burning sensation." Her voice was purposefully soothing as she injected Max with the anaesthetic . "Okay Max, now I'm going to do a liver biopsy – I'll make a small incision here…." She traced the line on Max's back, knowing she could still feel the pressure while she waited for the anaesthetic to kick in. 'And then insert a needle and remove a small portion of your liver. We need to make sure it's viable – "

"Will it hurt?" Max whimpered and Cuddy felt her heart go out to the girl lying on the bed.

"No. You'll feel some pressure, but no pain. Are you ready?" She watched as Max nodded, her eyes focused dully on the ceiling. "Good. " She picked up the scalpel, sending up a brief prayer that whatever House was hiding, it wouldn't hurt this girl any more than necessary.

* * *

She had a board meeting after she cleared Max, and dully sat through the minutes, her mind on the two girls in surgery. Wilson was avoiding her gaze, but she wasn't sure why – and had no intention of finding out. He and House needed to work out their own issues.

After the meeting finished, she made her way to the OR gallery. Cameron was there and Cuddy approached her slowly, her eyes on the girls below. "How's it going?" She spoke softly and Cameron kept staring at the room below.

"They're about to remove Hannah's liver." They watched in silence for a moment until Cuddy's curiosity got the better of her.

"You want to let me in on the big secret between these two?" she asked, and Cameron waited a moment before responding.

"Did you read Foreman's article?" Cameron's voice was bitter, and Cuddy looked at her in surprise. Cameron was bringing this up now?

"It was good." She answered the girl slowly, and Cameron glared over at her.

"He basically stole it from me," she muttered and Cuddy had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn't believe Cameron was still talking about this – let alone bringing it up to her of all people.

"So?" she finally replied and Cameron looked at her in surprises.

"You're on his side?" she asked in disbelief. Cuddy smiled in response.

"Sides? No, this isn't dodge ball." She glanced back down at the surgeries in progress.

"What am I supposed to do, sit back and take it?" Cameron snapped and Cuddy glanced over at her.

"No!" she responded quickly. "Write another article. Kick ass until you're sitting behind some big expensive desk and someone from Johns Hopkins calls and says 'We're thinking about hiring Eric Foreman as our head of Neurology.' And you can say whatever you want." She spoke sharply, mentally adding '_and you don't whine about it to everyone within earshot._' She knew well, revenge was a dish best served cold.

"Lovely. Revenge as a motive for success." Cameron's voice was scathing and Cuddy turned back to the window.

"It doesn't have to be a motive," she responded softly. "But it sure tastes good." Just then Max went into cardiac arrest and Cuddy leaned forward. The door banged open behind them and she turned to see House entering the room.

"Oh! I am so relieved you two are here – without you looking at her, they'd be playing foosball down there." He spoke sarcastically, glaring at Cameron more so than her.

"Max's heart stopped – " Cameron began but House cut her off.

"_Your_ patient is on the other side." He glanced at Cuddy for a moment before continuing. "Now get yourself upstairs and figure out what Hannah has, or Max has risked her life for nothing." Cameron sighed and left the room, and House stared at her silently for a beat before turning and following her.

She stood alone in the room and watched as Max's heart began to beat again.

* * *

She was tired that evening when she opened her door and saw him on the other side of it. "Just talk to Wilson, for the love of all that's holy," she moaned before holding her door open and letting him in. He moved into her foyer, standing closer than normal to her and she looked up.

"You know I can't do that."

"Won't do that – there's a total difference," she muttered before moving past him and sitting on her sofa in a tired heap.

"I just – can't talk to him." He mumbled as he landed next to her. She just gave him a significant look and he looked away. "It's not the same. Since – he doesn't believe me anymore." He sounded almost glum and she turned toward him, watching him carefully.

He had laid his cane on the sofa next to him, and since he had sat almost directly next to her, there was plenty of room. She bit her lip and sighed, deciding that changing the subject was a much better option than attempting the futility of getting House to open up. House spoke when he wanted and where he wanted – sometimes the most inappropriate of places was where he decided to get serious.

"I was surprised to see your paperwork filed for this week's case." She spoke mildly and he shot a glance over at her – his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he looked away.

"Well, yeah! How often do I get to diagnose the plague?"

"God willing, only once," she muttered and he slouched further down in his seat. "You look better."

"Took a nap in my office today. Heard a bit of interesting gossip from Chase though – apparently our Little Miss Organ Donor wasn't so selfless. I heard she – "

"Donated her liver to keep her girlfriend out of guilt?" she finished for him, and the smirk fell off his face quickly. "Yeah, I knew that. Right about the time she was telling me how they could compare scars when they were growing old together."

"How in the hell do you find this crap out before me? And why didn't you tell me? You know how I love the real life drama of lesbian lovers!"

She rolled her eyes at that and then shrugged after a moment. "It was just a hunch. Honestly... it's what I would have done, too," she finally muttered quietly. He turned to her, brows raised in surprise. She was familiar with guilt – it was a lifelong companion she had gotten used to – and because of that she was more than aware of when to use it on others, and when it was being used on her. It depended on the person whether or not they got away with it.

"Really? You'd have lied and guilted your lesbian lover into staying?" He leaned forward eagerly as he spoke, placing his chin in his hands. "Tell me more. What does she look like – and how exactly do you – "

"House." She spoke in a tone of exasperation and he nodded once before sitting back with a sigh.

"Killjoy," he muttered, before picking up the cane next to him and rolling it up and down his legs with his fingers. "I've been doing some reading." He spoke again out of the blue and she turned to him with an arched brow. "About a – " He cleared his throat nervously, the cane rolling faster now, back and forth. "– a treatment."

"For whom?" she asked, and he stared at her significantly for a moment. "Oh." She spoke stupidly, looking at him and then down at his leg – a constant scar between them. Guilt rose in her once again, a familiar wash of greens and blues as she stared down at her hands, tightly locked together in her lap. She felt like it was her fault – if there was a treatment for his pain – she should have been the one looking for it.

"It's experimental – not even done here, right now. They're testing it in Germany and Mexico though – I may – I may go for it."

She was silent as she nodded, her fingers twisting around each other more tightly as she felt a heavy weight settle in her chest. "I wanted to see if you would take a look at the research for me. I'm not the most biased person – and it won't cure me – or magically put back what isn't there – but it could eradicate my pain level completely."

"No more Vicodin?" she whispered, though it sounded amazingly harsh in the still room. He nodded and she frowned down at her hands. He wanted her to look at it – he trusted her. And for the second time in a week, she was surprised by this. "Wilson – "

"Thought my leg pain was a conversion disorder. He still thinks it – though he never says anything to me. You…." He paused, looking down at his own hands, still nervously rolling the cane up and down. He swallowed, and his hands stilled as he looked up at her, his eyes forcing hers up. "You believed me."

"I…." She swallowed roughly, wondering if she could even get the words out past the sudden obstruction in her throat. "House – " It was a small sound, just his name – a soft whisper in the quiet room as she looked at him and nodded. "I'd be happy to."

"Good. I'll bring it by your office tomorrow when I get in. It's in German but I have most of it translated – "

"That's fine," she said quickly, still slightly astounded at the level of trust her was placing in her.

"And…" he spoke again almost reluctantly and she looked up, waiting. "I was thinking – if I do end up going – for the treatment – it'll take about two weeks, at least – and only that short because I'll have access to care here – but I'd really like you to come with me." The last part was almost whispered but she heard him and stilled in surprise. Her hands released each other suddenly and she stared at him wondering if maybe she had been wrong. About everything.

"Me?" Her voice was low and rough with emotion as he nodded once, not looking back up at her. "If that's what you want. Yes."

"Two weeks is a long time away from the hospital – "

"I haven't taken a vacation in nine years House. I have no idea how we'd get it past Wilson – "

"Wouldn't matter. I'll probably tell him." They sat in silence after that, and she stared ahead of her – afraid that if she looked at him right now – if he saw….

He trusted her with his secrets. And yet she couldn't do the same for him. She was staring at her floor when she opened her mouth – to tell him. About her nightmares, her lack of sleep, her lack of a love life. About the decision that she didn't quite have the courage to put into action. Yet. His hand reached over though, taking hers and suddenly she was robbed of speech. His skin was warm and the pressure felt good. It felt good just to hold someone's hand. And just as suddenly as she had wanted to tell him, she suddenly never wanted to tell him at all. It would change everything, she reasoned. Her secret would change everything.

And she just wasn't ready for everything to change.


	16. Prayer

A/N: A million trillon thanks to Alias424 for making this something you may enjoy reading instead of scratching your heads and asking what's wrong with me.

* * *

"Okay, so you want to have a baby..." Dr. Robin Keith smiled warmly across her desk, and Cuddy smiled nervously back at her. Cuddy's hands were griping the edge of her seat, as she sat forward and nodded.

"Yes." It was almost a release to say it out loud. Yes – she wanted a baby. Her smile grew and she cleared her throat nervously. "I know it's not exactly usual – to come to you – "

"Single women looking to become mothers are more than usual, Lisa." Robin spoke briefly and opened the chart in front of her. "And while most of them don't come to fertility specialists, you are over forty – and with your history..." Robin trailed off and Cuddy nodded tightly – this was her second visit with Robin – the first had been to establish a history and runs some general fertility tests.

"I just – didn't want to take any chances," Cuddy muttered and Robin nodded in understanding, leaning back in her own chair. Weak April sunlight streamed over the two of them, and Cuddy distracted herself by looking around the cluttered office. The wall behind the desk was literally covered in baby photos – all children Robin had helped bring into the world.

"Okay – I'll get to the results right away – since you look pretty tightly wound." Robin's face gentled with the admonishment and Cuddy tried to relax back into the chair, removing her hands from the edge of the seat. "Most of the results were great – your FSH and LH levels are all exactly where they should be. The only thing that would be of any concern is your estradiol levels – they're a bit high, which as you know is –"

"Completely normal in women over 35," Cuddy answered with a sigh. She was an endocrinologist – which was a blessing and a curse during this. It was a blessing because she knew reproductive endocrinologists – and was able to see the best available to her. It was a curse because she knew what she was facing. Her body was gradually decreasing some hormones and amping others in preparation for menopause.

"They're not so high that we have to do IVF, which is good news. We can still do IUI – which I know you wanted to try first." Robin was smiling as she spoke and Cuddy sighed in relief, sagging slightly. IUI was substantially cheaper than IVF and neither were covered by insurance. Not that cost was that much of a concern, but if she was limited to IVF she would have only been able to try three – maybe four times.

"That is good news," Cuddy smiled, shifting back in her chair, slightly more comfortable now.

"You will still need to go on the meds – obviously. I'm recommending gonadotropins right away – because of your age and your estradiol levels." Robin paused, and Cuddy nodded in response, twisting her hands together in her lap as she listened. "I'm also going to double up your insemination – two injections each time, approximately twenty-four hours apart. Obviously we can monitor your hormone levels extremely closely since you have immediate convenient access to a blood lab. All in all we should be able to start this cycle – since we know you've been off birth control long enough."

Cuddy snorted slightly – she hadn't taken birth control in months – she knew she wasn't having sex anytime soon, and knew it was even less likely that she would be getting involved with anyone. Not when she couldn't have the one she wanted. "What about non-prescription drugs?" she asked softly, waiting for a response. Some doctors abhorred the use of herbal supplements – others didn't.

"Red clover is a great booster. You should start taking folic acid right away as well, and anything you can do to prepare yourself over the next few weeks would be great. Cut your caffeine intake down, if possible, refrain from drinking. All of these will help improve your chances, Lisa." Cuddy nodded along with Robin's words. "The most important thing we're going to discuss today is the donation. You have two options – anonymous donation or using a known donor. Have you had any thoughts on either?"

_Only about a million._ "I hadn't really thought about it – I assumed I would be using an anonymous donor..." Cuddy started before her voice trailed off and Robin nodded thoughtfully.

"Most single women make that assumption. There are pros and cons for both. I can give you some literature." Robin moved papers around on her desk, gathering several up and handing them across to Cuddy, who took them with trepidation. "Basically – there are pluses to using a known donor. You would know the father – his personal, psychological and medical history. It's faster – you have no quarantine period to go through – anonymous donor sperm needs to be analyzed and quarantined for up to six months. It gives you the advantage of having an answer to the inevitable questions about the father that you'll get from your child at some point down the road – and it costs less since most known donors don't need to be paid." Robin was smiling as she spoke and Cuddy's mind was racing, filled with facts and suppositions, along with a few brief flashes of a future that would never happen.

"Do most single women pick that – I mean... isn't it a risk in regards to rights?"

"That's the con. You _do_ know the person – it does put a strain on the relationship that most people can't handle. Sometimes legal issues arise because of it – so if you do choose to go that route you need to select very carefully. Don't pick your best male friend – because chances are it could ruin the friendship. It's happened. Don't ask men you're emotionally attached to – it's a very important decision. On top of all that you need to take things like medical and genetic history into account." Robin glanced at her watch as she spoke, before leaning back with a smile. "I'm burying you with facts, I know – listen, call us when your next cycle starts and we'll get you in for a baseline ultrasound and hopefully start you on your meds. If you have any questions – even if you just need someone to speak to – you can call anytime." Robin's warmth was genuine and Cuddy smiled weakly, clutching the sheaf of papers in her hand weakly as she stood on unsteady legs. She exited the office quickly, both elated and terrified.

She had known going into this that it would be difficult – in more ways than one. The board wouldn't like her decision, but technically and legally there was nothing they could do about it. The fear that gripped her the most was the thought of doing this alone. There would be no one to share it with – not the first kick or the birth, bringing the baby home, first smiles or laughs or steps. She knew she was being overly pessimistic – after all – she could meet someone. It was possible. Not anytime soon, but it could happen at some point in the future. But she hadn't met anyone – not really, not in the last twenty years.

Her stomach refused to settle as she sat in her car, staring at the documents in front of her. This was huge – it was scary. She longed for it though – the smell of baby powder and the feel of soft curls against her face. Her arms ached for the feel of a baby in them, warm and sweet-smelling. This was the only option, she knew. If she closed her eyes at night and saw flashes of babies with bright blue eyes and images of waking next to a man who would never fit into her reality – well, that was her secret fantasy to cling to.

"What are you doing?" she reprimanded herself softly before putting the papers aside and turning the key in her ignition. She had a reality to return to.

* * *

She left the paperwork at home, locked in her file cabinet – far from anyone's prying eyes. And by anyone, of course she meant House. She had sat up all night, reading the literature and pondering the decision before her. She didn't really see any way she could use a known donor – even if it did seem like the better option. Robin's words about choosing men you were emotionally attached to had automatically precluded House or Wilson – not that House had been considered in the first place.

Wilson on the other hand... well, Wilson was her friend. And he was a relatively healthy male – that she knew of. She also knew that he would probably do it if she asked him. But he was her friend, too. Probably not as much recently as in years gone by – but they had been close once, and he would do it out of loyalty to that time. She really didn't think he could be uninvolved, though, and when she closed her eyes and tried to picture Wilson in her life in that way – or a baby with deep brown eyes – it made her skin clammy and her heart race in a bad way. It didn't feel right. And House's reaction – it shouldn't have even been a factor, but it was there – constantly shrouding the back of her mind.

She hadn't even had a cup of coffee this morning – she was weaning herself off and figured the best way to do it was cold turkey. So when she sat down at her desk after shedding her suit coat and placing her briefcase on the table behind her desk, she welcomed the distraction sitting on it.

House's research was encased in a manila folder, wrapped in an old rubber band and had a post-it with his untidy scrawl across it. He had only written 'translated German trials' but she knew what it was, eager for the diversion from her own messy thoughts as she unwrapped and opened it. The files were there – photocopied and worn, all written in German. Underneath those were his untidy notes – various translations with random thoughts penned into the margins. She sighed softly, looking down at it and running her hand over the ink there. The notes were handwritten, because of course House wouldn't use a computer for anything practical – if he even had one at home; she had never seen one any of the times she had been there.

A knock startled her out of her thoughts, and when she looked up and saw Wilson standing outside, she motioned him in with one hand while closing the file and putting it in her top drawer with the other. "Dr. Wilson, what can I do for you?" She spoke with a smile as he entered the room and he sighed, standing a few feet from her desk and placing a hand on his hip.

"Do you think he's mad that I left?" he finally asked and she sighed inwardly while watching him.

"No."

"He won't invite me to his poker night – he always used to – what's changed?" Wilson finally sank into the chair in front of her desk and she laughed with remembrance.

"Everything," she responded softly and he nodded in agreement. "Wilson, I assure you – he's not mad. He probably isn't inviting you because – oh God only knows with him. It could be anything, Wilson – it's not important enough to work yourself up over." Her voice rose slightly and he watched her critically.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Just tired – sorry." She was also feeling slightly bitchy due to lack of caffeine, but she wasn't about to tell him that. He nodded before standing and turning to go.

"Oh—" He paused with his hand on the knob, and turned back to her. "House's team caught a case today. Not sure what it is – but I saw them with him on my way down. Thought you'd like to know." She smiled her thanks and he exited, closing the door gently. She did like to know – but she sent up a silent prayer that House could handle this one without getting sued or almost killing anybody – she had more important things to do.

* * *

She was just signing off on the last patient's file when he came in, shutting the exam room door behind him. She glanced up with a sigh, waiting for him to speak but instead he simply manoeuvred until he was sitting on the exam table. "If the next words out of your mouth include 'physical,' House, I'll make you regret it." She spoke matter-of-factly, closing the file with a snap and looking across at him.

"I'm in need of an... examination." He finally spoke, and she tried to frown but smiled instead, rolling her eyes.

"I'm in the middle of my clinic rounds, House – what is it?" She turned on the stool and folded her arms across her chest.

"Did you read it – "

"I've skimmed, but haven't had a chance to sit down with it yet. I'll come see you when I do." She cut across him, and he nodded and then fell silent again. After a few beats, she frowned over at him as he stared at the tips of his shoes. "House?"

"Mmm?" He looked up and noticed her staring at him oddly. "Oh right – you need to finish." He didn't make any move to leave though and she stood, walking across the room and leaning against the table to his left.

She studied him with a slight frown. It was never unusual for House to irritate her on a regular basis any day of the week, but for him to come in and _not_ irritate her – that was a sign. He still refused to look up at her or meet her eyes, and she felt a reluctant tug of real concern. "What's wrong?"

"Do you think I don't trust anyone?" He glanced over at her and she paused, debating for a moment how serious he really was. After waiting a beat – and not seeing anything that would indicate he wasn't – she laughed slightly.

"Depends on who." She finally chose a non-answer. "And what." He shot her a frown and she sighed, pulling herself up onto the table and sitting next to him. "You'd tell Wilson things you'd never tell me. You tell me things you wouldn't say to Wilson. The only person anybody _really_ completely trusts is themselves."

"What about God?" This time she did laugh and her shoulders brushed his as she shook.

"Oh – you were serious?" She stopped laughing abruptly when his eyes did waver from hers.

"Well I mean – people say that faith is the ultimate symbol of trust – "

"It can be. Or it can be something you do to cover your ass. Or out of obligation. Most people hope rather than emphatically believe, and why in the hell are we having this discussion?" she finally snapped, and he glanced up at the ceiling in silence.

"Got a patient. Faith healer. He has cramping and low sodium induced by massive water intake."

"And? If his case is solved shouldn't you be hiding from me somewhere playing with one of your toys?" she pointed out, and he glanced back over at her reluctantly. "Oh, I get it. You solved his case but you can't solve his faith. And the fact that he heals just irritates the hell out of you – "

"He can't possibly _actually_ heal. But it's delusional to think he could – "

"Why not? The mind is an extremely powerful and highly suggestive tool." House made a scoffing noise, and she looked down and saw how much longer his legs were than hers. She didn't normally feel short around him – heels had a big something to do with it – but sometimes she was forcibly reminded of his size compared to hers.

"Sure. In idiots. Only an idiot would believe that some unknown all-seeing being is healing them through an obnoxious fifteen -year-old boy," he scoffed, and she nodded next to him mindlessly. "You don't get riled up over this crap like Wilson does. No fun."

"Sorry – wrong friend." She spoke dryly and he moved down from the table before turning to face her.

"I know I don't believe – but you never really talk about it – "

"I believe Abe Lincoln," she responded simply, and he smiled and turned to go, leaving the door wide open as she sat in the middle of the quiet exam room.

* * *

He left her alone for the next few days – trying to disprove God and Grace's test results. She left him to it – because miracles weren't good for the Board's collective blood pressure. She studied his research each night – along with her own. The facts interwove and blurred together until she couldn't decided which was more important – hers or his. Or maybe the lingering thought that they were intertwined was what kept her awake in her bed, surrounded by papers with her laptop lighting the room in an eerie blue.

Somewhere along the way she had allowed the tiny thought that her decision hinged on his to cross her mind. If he had the treatment – if it succeeded – she could... She had dismissed it as soon as she had thought it – House was House and even if all his pain disappeared, he was still the same egotistical jackass willing to do anything. His bite would be a little less sharp – but at best, if the treatment worked, it would only file his teeth down. He'd still go on snapping and snarling at everyone around him.

The problem was, once she thought it – she couldn't unthink it – and those images of standing next to a crib with him, staring down at their child, wouldn't leave her mind. They haunted what little sleep she was getting – when she closed her eyes during the day she could see it. It was a mirage – something she wanted but would never happen.

She had struggled to be honest – struggled to make this not about him. This one decision – because intentionally or otherwise – so many other choices she had made over her lifetime had been about him. It made her cringe – because at no point had she thought that was how it would end up – but twenty years and a whole lot of clarity later, and there it was. She had never wanted to be that woman.

She stared down at her notes lying next to his on her duvet cover. His handwriting was a scrawl compared to her own neat, flowing hand. She had notes cramped into the margins of his – thoughts and pro/con lists – bullet points for arguments for and against each treatment. In the end though, her decision had been easy. House was in too much pain not to do this. All she wanted was the best chance for him with the least amount of risk – but sometimes risk was necessary.

Sometimes it was needed. She found it incredibly ironic that she would be advocating risk to him when she couldn't seem to take it in her own life at all. In coming to a decision about House, she had also come to reach a decision of her own. She couldn't risk it. At least one of them would have everything they wanted.

* * *

She found him in his office, leaning back in his Eames chair, his cane laid against the wall behind him. She entered without knocking – it was a favour she could return – and then nudged his feet aside before sitting on the ottoman. She hadn't taken the file up with her – didn't really need to since the facts were on loop in her head, threatening to burn into the grey matter there after the days she'd spent studying them.

"You want a discussion or just a verdict?" She went straight to the point and he sat up a little straighter, looking at her with alert eyes.

"Both."

"If you choose to do the awake technique – we could do it here – "

"Success rates are higher with the coma treatment. Only done in Germany – there're a few trials in Mexico, but on the whole I'd rather the German case study," he shot back, and she placed a hand on his leg absently, looking up at him. It was almost a comfort – hearing him list all of the reasons she had already thought of. He had thought about this – the fact eased her mind slightly.

"The rates aren't that much better and on the whole the awake technique is safer – " She still argued, because it was what she did. She wanted him to be sure – to be fully aware, and if she needed to play the devil's advocate to do that, she would.

"Fourteen out of forty-one patients fully recovered after only one treatment – "

"That's only thirty three percent," she argued, and he frowned at her before sitting back with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face and looked at her seriously.

"So that's it – you think I should do the awake technique?" He spoke in exasperation and she stared at him sympathetically.

"No." She took a deep breath when his eyes caught hers, deep blue and fathomless. "The awake technique requires monthly booster treatments – the coma technique only needs to be administered once with supplemental injections if needed. The success rate only climbs higher when patients are given the treatment twice – some have been pain-free for three years and counting." He seemed relieved by her words and he leaned forward again until his hands were resting on his legs, brushing hers in the process. She swallowed heavily at the sensation, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

"So – you think it's worth the risk," he hedged, and she nodded in response. Her heart beat was thundering in her ears and her palms felt clammy. This was his chance – and she was happy for him. She ignored the tiny voice inside her head that was screaming that it was her chance too, their chance.

"At the very least, House – your pain level will be reset. So if it does return, it won't be at your current level." She licked her lips slightly, leaning forward and locking her eyes to his. "You need that. But you also need to be realistic about this. This isn't going to cure you. It isn't going to give you back full function in your leg – it can't grow muscle. And you need to be prepared for the probability that it might not work at all." She was trying to be level-headed about it – anything to shut that voice up. She knew she couldn't trust him to be, and he needed to go into this with little to no expectation. It was almost impossible to ask him to do.

"Isn't that why you're coming?" He spoke with a slight smile and she found herself smiling back. "Killjoy," he mocked her lightly and her face grew more serious.

"What about Wilson?"

"No. We don't tell him." House said firmly and she shook her head slightly in response. He pulled his legs off the ottoman, leaning farther forward and brushing her hands with his finger. "Come on. It's not the first thing we've kept from him."

"That was different – "

"It was necessary. So is this." He was trailing his fingers up along her wrist and she shivered lightly before stilling his progress by taking his hand in hers.

"These are two entirely different things House. That was personal. This is – "

"Personal," he answered shortly and she shook her head as he pulled her closer. "Cuddy – just…he won't understand. You know it – I know it. I'd rather not deal with his speeches about everything being in my head right now." She nodded finally, and he gave her a slightly relieved smile. She could smell his soap and feel the heat rising between them, an exchange of his heat and hers. Her heart twisted a bit at how close he was coming. Literally and figuratively and she couldn't afford to have him this close – not right now.

"I should go – I have a meeting soon and you – "

"Have to celebrate the fact that I bested God once again?" He was leaning back now, and his hand slipped from hers as she stood up. She curled her fingers into her palm, trying to capture the warmth before it seeped away.

"You did good." She smiled wryly as he looked up at her triumphantly.

"I feel good. It's very honest Abe of me." She walked to the door and he stood behind her, moving quickly until his hand held her elbow lightly. "Cuddy..." She looked back at him and he stared into her eyes for a moment. He would never say the words – but they could speak a thousand of them with a look, and it was as close as he would ever get to showing gratitude, or appreciation. She nodded, feeling her own secret guilt burn a little deeper into her soul. She opened the door, escaping before he could see it in her eyes.

She walked down the hall with her fisted hand pulled into her chest absently. He was getting too close and was too observant. She had no doubt in her mind that he would figure her out eventually – she could only hold him off for so long. Part of her heart was waiting for it – and not putting up any resistance at all. It was only a matter of time.


	17. Guilt

A/N: Many thanks to Alias, who is made of awesome and win and glitter and puppies and kittens and water and anything else that makes you smile - because that is how vital she is. Seriously. Only three chapters left. Sadface. Then on to the sequel. Happy face!

* * *

It was incredibly cliché but all she could think as she walked along the halls was that it had been quiet lately. _Too quiet._She couldn't quite put her finger on it – but the air seemed charged lately, ready to implode at the slightest sudden movement. Most people enjoyed quiet days at their jobs – time to relax, unwind – get the mundane accomplished so you can move forward. But quiet days in hospitals were a source of tension that mounted until ready to snap.

She had a bad feeling – anxiousness lingering around her as she walked along the different floors, searching in vain for something stress-relieving and headache-inducing. And if she wandered the fourth floor more often than others – well, it was the most likely source for any break in the quiet, so she could hardly be blamed.

"This is the fifth time I've seen you stalking around out here this morning." Wilson was signing charts at the nurses' station – his favourite spot in the hospital as it provided the most face-time with the nurses.

"Uh huh." She spoke in a noncommittal tone as she leaned against the counter and smirked across at him. "And you've been 'signing files' and chatting up the little red-headed nurse for the last forty minutes. What's your point?"

"Seriously. You two are becoming more alike each passing day." Wilson closed the chart in front of him with a long, suffering sigh. "Five times in three hours, Cuddy?"

"It's quiet." Her voice was defensive and she leaned against the counter more heavily.

"Yes. How tragic." Wilson was mocking her and she glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

"It's not a good thing – you know that."

"Yes well, this is the most likely source for trouble – his offices are just down the hall. He's on some case right now though– "

"Yeah, cop experiencing euphoria and seizures. Plus he was shot. I read the file." She laid her palms flat against the surface of the desk and stared at her fingers splayed out thoughtfully. "Honestly, I thought he would have broken some rule or other by now – "

"If ever a sentence was meant to come back and bite you in the ass..." Wilson laughed as he spoke over her and she shrugged as her feeling of disquiet increased.

"I know. Which tells you exactly how quiet it's been today – "

"Dr. Cuddy!" One of the male nurses was running toward her with a pale face, breathing raggedly as he slid to a stop next to her.

"Steven, you know you aren't supposed to run in the halls unless – "

"Somebody's dying. I know." He chuckled nervously, wiping a hand over his face as he took a deep breath. "Not really an issue in my department, right?" He worked in the morgue – not exactly a _running_ department. "I just thought you'd like to know – " He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Dr. House just shot a patient in the head."

Wilson choked behind her, but she didn't show any reaction at all, her face remaining calm. "A dead one, I hope," she deadpanned, and Wilson made another choking sound behind her, almost a strangled laugh as Steven nodded solemnly. "Thank you. I'll handle it." She turned away from him and glared at Wilson, who swallowed his laughter nervously.

"Why would House shoot a corpse – "

"Because his live patient has bullet fragments in his head. The question is – why does he need a corpse with similar bullet fragments?" She frowned at Wilson who all of a sudden looked like he had swallowed something particularly sour. "Wilson."

"MRI?" Wilson spoke in a weak voice and she closed her eyes tightly and cursed out loud before opening them again.

"I am going to _kill_ him." She was pushing away and barrelling toward the elevators as Wilson watched her go with a fearful expression.

"I'm guessing now would not be the time to say I told you so?"

The only response she gave him was a vicious glare as she stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button repeatedly. She was almost missing the quiet.

* * *

She was seething by the time she walked into the MRI lab and found him just where Wilson had predicted. It didn't calm her to see him discussing something with Cameron intently, either, as they both watched Foreman and Chase heave the corpse onto the MRI table.

"I cannot imagine the backwards logic you used to rationalize shooting a corpse." She spoke in a tired tone and he turned toward her, remarkably unsurprised to see her standing there with a frown.

"Well, if I shot a live person there's more paperwork." He mocked her and she simply stared at him for a moment before responding.

"Then it won't be a problem for you to stand next to his casket at the wake and explain why a _cancer_ patient has a bullet hole in his head!" She was exasperated, and he was glancing away from her – he almost looked guilty, but she knew better than to hope for that. House never felt guilty.

"The man donated his body to science!" He was back to glaring at her as he swept his arm out to indicate the corpse that Chase was moving into the machine. "Yes, it's a tragedy – if I hadn't shot him he could have spent the next weeks letting first year med students use the carpool lane!" She saw Chase and Foreman join them and she glanced out the window, half listening to House rant as she stared at the MRI with the corpse in it.

"He's set," Chase stated as he walked in, and horror crossed her face as she turned to House quickly.

"Do not turn that on, House!"

"You're mad I put a bullet in his head. The worst I'm doing now is taking it out." He was pressing the button before she could reach across and grab him, and she watched as the lights started flickering immediately before the room was plunged into darkness. There was a horrible sound from the MRI machine and a large bang before the emergency lights came on and the room was bathed in red. She turned to him with a glare. "My bad." His voice was halfway apologetic as she stared at him incredulously.

Chase and Foreman were against the wall and she took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He had just broken a machine that cost over a million dollars because he was a moron. She could be calm about this. She could _not_ kill him. The room had grown quiet and tense as she stared at him silently. Cameron was slowly moving toward the wall and trying to push Chase out. Foreman had erupted into soft laughter and she felt her anger rise as she transferred his glare to him, but Chase was shoving the other man out of the room in front of him with Cameron close behind.

"Do you have any _idea _just how much an MRI machine costs?" When she finally spoke her voice was even and soft.

"I could buy you a really nice low-cut blouse – you'll make the money back in no time."

She wanted to slap him. Just reach out across the empty space and hurt him. He was an idiot. It had never occurred to him how hard it was finding funding for a hospital that employed a man who routinely broke every rule and then some. A man who had forced said hospital to give up a hundred million dollar donation less than a year ago – a move that had driven away almost all pharmaceutical donations in its wake. "A million dollars, House! Even _my_ cleavage isn't worth that much!"

"Don't undersell yourself Cuddy! The girls are worth at least that and when you throw in the ass and the bod – "

"House!" she snapped, and her voice cracked as she glared at him surrounded by a sea of red.

"How was I supposed to know they would break the machine – "

"Yes, it was utterly impossible to guess that the metal bullets would _somehow_ be attracted to the _twenty-three giant magnets_!" She was yelling now – jabbing a finger in his chest as her face twisted with rage. He stared down at her, stepping back slightly as she stopped, forcing herself to breathe and calm down – and not kill him.

"I wasn't sure – "

"You should have been, you moron!" she snapped before he even finished, and he closed his mouth before shrugging.

"Is anything I say really going to make you not want to choke me right now?"

"No," she bit out, and he looked up toward the ceiling.

"Pity. All this mood lighting wasted. Am I fired?" he asked as he looked back down at her and she closed her eyes tightly wishing for just a millisecond –

"No."

"Can I go do my job now?" He was pointing at the door behind her and she stepped back, her hands shaking and a fierce glare pinned on him.

"I don't know, _can _you?" He hobbled past her quickly, at least letting her have the last word as she stared at her now useless piece of equipment with disappointed anger. She dropped her head back with a moan before letting out a small scream once she was completely alone.

"Idiot!"

* * *

"A quarantine? Is this thing airborne or – "

"We don't know." He sighed, looking across his desk at her as he flexed his fingers over the rubber band in his hand. "Everyone who had contact with the patient and Foreman is being tested – that includes you, Cuddy." His voice was sharp as he issued the command and she nodded slowly. And she had thought a broken MRI was the worst part of her day so far.

"Fine." She spoke in a defeated tone and he stood, moving around the desk and pushing her down into a chair. She blinked, seeing the needle in his hand and frowning. "Now?"

"No – I thought we'd wait until you show a few symptoms, spread it a bit more. Yes, now!" He was growling and she sighed, shrugging out of her suit coat and rolling up her sleeve. He tied the tourniquet quickly and she barely felt the needle slide in.

"Do you think it's – "

"I think he got it from the apartment. Can't be sure though," he mumbled around the spare vial in his mouth before attaching that as well and tossing the full one on the desk. When he finished, he removed the needle and released the tourniquet as she automatically bent her arm, pressing a finger against the puncture mark.

"House..." Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him as he labelled the vials intently. "Are you alright?"

"He's a patient. Like any other patient."

"No, he's not." She spoke softly and he glanced down at her quickly before looking away.

"He has to be. Otherwise – " His hand tightened around the vials and he refused to meet her eyes. "I need to get these to the lab."

She stood slowly, holding out a hand. "I'll take them." He looked up at her with a serious expression and her fingers curled around the tubes as he placed them in her hand. He didn't move his own hand back right away and her hand curled around his as well. She didn't move, and for a moment silence fell heavy in the office as their fingers wove together over vials of her blood and his. Finally he nodded, dropping his hand and his eyes. She walked to the door slowly, before turning back for a moment. "House."

He was still standing where she had left him – looking tired and worn – his navy shirt more wrinkled than usual and his hands running through his hair roughly. "Yeah?"

"You're the best doctor I know." She spoke in a sure tone – and she said it like she had never been more convinced of anything else in her life. She hadn't. "If anyone can save him – It's you." She didn't wait for a response, knew he would have hated even that small amount of offered comfort. She just let the glass door swish shut behind her as she cradled their blood in her hands.

* * *

"I don't know what to do." Wilson was agitated as he paced her office and rubbed a hand over her face as she watched him.

"You can't do anything Wilson."

"We have to!" He threw his hands in the air as he paced and she sighed from her spot on the sofa. It was almost midnight and she was occupying herself with random paperwork as she waited for news – any news. "He's not – he's being un-House-like. He's acting like you – taking the safe route, covering all his bases. He never does that. And he won't even admit that it's because it's Foreman – "

She tried not to glare at him when he effectively insulted her skills as a doctor. It was something she had grown accustomed to. "What difference does it make, Wilson? He knows it's different because it's Foreman, you know it's different. What does getting him to admit it accomplish?"

"It makes him see – "

"This is not the time to teach House a life lesson, Wilson! He has got to figure this out, and nothing we can do can help him. However one of us haunting him and harping about how he's a real boy with real feelings might distract him – "

"So this is my fault?! I care about him!" Wilson was shouting at her now and she stood quickly, causing the paperwork in her lap to flutter to the floor in a downpour of white and black.

"You do not hold the market share in caring about him, Wilson! Just let him work through it on his own –"

"What if he doesn't?" Wilson snapped out and she stared at him for a beat before her shoulders sagged in defeat.

"Then neither of us will be able to help him deal with the guilt. Nobody could." Wilson stared at her incredulously for a moment before shaking his head in disgust and exiting her office. She sank back down as she looked blankly down at the mess around her feet. Guilt was an emotion House wouldn't deal well with. She closed her eyes, wishing she could somehow take it on for him – it was her specialty after all.

* * *

She hadn't gone home last night – but she also knew she hadn't been the only one. She had somehow managed to forget lunch as well and was sipping on a forbidden cup of coffee when House wandered into her office. He sank quietly into one of the chairs, resting his chin on top of his cane as he stared at nothing in particular.

He looked like hell – still in the same clothes from yesterday and he had obviously not gotten any sleep the night before. His usual stubble was threatening to turn into a beard and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"He's dead." She froze at his voice, her cup halfway to her mouth as she stared at him for a dreadfully empty moment. "The cop." She let out a breath when he added that and then instantly felt guilty that she had.

"Foreman still – "

"He's running out of time. Thirty-six hours at most, Cuddy." His eyes met hers and they were pleading with her. "Don't report it." She stood at his words, and moved over to the sofa in agitation. His eyes followed her, and then the rest of him did, too. He sank down right next to her, his eyes watching her hands as the gripped each other tightly in her lap.

"You don't know what you're asking – " Her voice was low and she couldn't look at him, but his hand covered hers, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Yes, I do. And it's a lot – I know." She shook her head at his words. He did not know.

"The CDC is already aware of the quarantine House – "

"I need that biopsy, Cuddy. It could save Foreman."

"_Could_,not would, House – and you would be risking every other patient in this hospital!" He dropped her hands and she sighed in frustration. She hated and loved a lot of things about her job. But she hated nothing so much as the constant weighing of need. Needs of the many versus the needs of the few. Every decision she made – in some way killed someone. Every single damn decision. Should oncology get the new equipment or should the cardiac department? Either way people would die without the equipment, and she could never possibly get everything for everyone, no matter how she tried. It was why she had lobbied for Vogler's money so hard. It was why she had taken its loss the same way.

He did not know what he was asking.

"If we take the proper precautions – "

"And what exactly are the proper precautions for a disease we don't know a damn thing about? This could be anything, House – "

"I'll do it myself – "

"No!" Her voice was sharper than it needed to be as she pulled away from him, jerking her body backwards on the small sofa. "I can't allow – "

"It will save Foreman's life!" He was shouting now and she blinked in the face of his sudden anger and the defeat underlying it. "Please, Cuddy. Please?" He was begging and she felt her throat constrict because he had never asked for anything like this before in his entire history with her.

"Let me talk to them – "

"It has to be before then." She swallowed as he spoke, trying to buy herself some time as his eyes watched her intently. "Let me do this."

"Give me an hour – nurses would already have contacted the CDC. It's protocol, House. I need to –" She needed to do damage control, really, and come to terms with the fact that she was actually willing to let him do this. His hand grasped hers again, tightly but it only brought a feeling of unease with it. He nodded and stood, exiting the room as quietly as he had come.

She didn't move for fifteen minutes – any number of thoughts running around in her head. She shouldn't let him do the autopsy – it was dangerous. He needed to do it to have any chance of saving Foreman.

Chance. It still wasn't a guarantee – and any number of others could be infected. He could solve this without the autopsy.

And if he didn't….

_If he didn't__ he could blame you._

She closed her eyes to combat the wave of nausea that washed over her even as she thought it. The nausea didn't make the thought any less true, however. If she insisted on waiting for the CDC and House saved Foreman – nothing was lost. If she let him do the autopsy and Foreman died anyway – it was his guilt to carry around. If she withheld the autopsy and Foreman died – he could blame her.

He could blame her. It was a horrible thought – she was risking Foreman's life – but if she gave in to House, she would be risking countless others, including his. The math was simple. Unfortunate for Foreman, but simple.

She walked over to her desk numbly, and picked up the phone there. She dialled quickly – if she was doing it, she needed to do it fast.

"Center for Disease Control."

"I need to put in a requisition for an autopsy."

* * *

He was back in less than an hour, and she was nowhere near prepared. "I need a bone saw." His eyes met hers with that same look and she swallowed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry." He came to a halt, looking at her in shock.

"You said – "

"I wish I could." She spoke in a soft tone, but she knew it was a lie. She didn't wish she could – but she wished Foreman wasn't sick, and that this was just some patient they lost instead of the key to Foreman's life.

"I just need a tiny slice of this guy's brain. That's all I need. Just enough to tell me what's _killing_ Foreman!" He was arguing with her again and she leaned back in her chair. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked almost hurt, and she struggled to keep an even expression.

"A tiny slice of Joe's brain could also cause a public health crisis," she pointed out logically and he stared at her for a moment in disbelief.

"I'll be careful."

"We don't have the equipment for you to be careful enough, House! You can do whatever you want to Foreman – but the CDC will be performing the autopsy." She sounded serious, because she was and he stood in front of her with a confused expression on his face. Even he couldn't puzzle out her thought process on this one – and he would never believe her if she told him her actual reasoning. It was better that he thought she was putting the hospital above Foreman. She was. In a way.

"You'll be lucky to get results back in three days!"

"I told them how important it is – " And she had. If she could get the results through proper channels without risking him – or anyone else, she would. And if they were inconclusive – well, House could blame her for that as well.

"Oh and what did they say?"

"That we'll have the results in… three days," she finished with a sigh, and he glared at her as she spoke.

"Aww, that's a shame. Foreman will never get to know what this was because he'll be dead!" His voice was rising and she had to struggle not to flinch in the face of his anger. "Maybe this is a toxin. Maybe it isn't contagious at all. You're killing Foreman because of a maybe!"

It was working already – because she was killing Foreman, not him. If she got him focused enough on that fact, he could forget the guilt and just do his job. She needed him to do his job. "And you're risking the entire hospital on a maybe, too. Maybe an autopsy won't reveal anything at all, House – and then Foreman will die. Along with a lot of other people. I can't allow it. I'm sorry. You have thirty-six hours to figure out what the hell this is." He opened his mouth for a minute – before shutting it again and getting a calculating look in his eye.

"Fine." He turned and walked out the door, and she sighed, waiting a minute before following him. He wasn't nearly as unpredictable as he would like to think. And that was the whole problem, wasn't it?

She wasn't even mildly shocked to find House at Foreman's room. She wasn't surprised to see the tools in Foreman's hands either, but she strode down the hall anyway. "Foreman, you can't do it. It would be in violation of – "

"Can't do the time if you're not alive," House was pointing out helpfully as she turned back to the nurses standing by the desk. She could hear Foreman grabbing the tools from behind her.

"I need you to suit up. Get that equipment away from Dr. Foreman!" she snapped at the nurse, who scurried off quickly. When she turned back, House was looking at her with disappointment.

"Take your time, guys!" He yelled over her shoulder before looking at her again. "Just tell them to go slow – then it won't be your fault – " She almost wanted to laugh – because it being her fault was the entire damn point.

"Foreman, we don't even know what kind of contagion we're dealing with – "

"That's why we need to chop into the guy's head!" House pointed out in an obvious tone. She turned toward the glass and ignored him.

"It's dangerous – "

"Not to you, Foreman." House spoke quickly and Foreman stood by Joe's bed, grasping the tools in his hand as he prepared to take the sample.

"There are other ways to diagnose you!" Her voice was wavering as her resolve weakened, and House turned to her quickly.

"Yeah? You have the answer?" She looked at him, unable to speak and he watched the nurses for a moment. "Foreman, do it now!" He was shouting and she turned back to the glass, panicked.

"I am warning you do not – " Foreman paid no attention to her though, as he hammered on the ice pick in his hand. She frowned, relief and dread dawning on her all at once as Foreman pulled out a piece of mattress. He couldn't see – and he had been nowhere near Joe's head.

"What are you doing?" House asked uncertainly and she looked at him with pity.

"He's blind." Her voice was lowered and he glanced at her with apprehension.

"But he thinks he can see. Same as the cop." Foreman was yelling inside about the sample, and waving it around. "Forget it – " House called to him with disgust. "You just biopsied a mattress."

Foreman frowned, insisted that he was fine as he grew agitated. The nurse finally entered, taking the tools from him gently before bagging them and exiting the room quickly. House watched in disappointment, not tearing his eyes from Foreman's panicked face.

"Apparently I was optimistic about the thirty-six hours," he mused, and she watched him as he looked at her, knowing that he was pressing her buttons hard. Any other time she would have caved. "Intractable, unbearable pain is up next. You sure you don't want to reconsider that autopsy?" He was watching her and she swallowed tightly, keeping her eyes on him as he looked back to Foreman, now being sedated. She didn't have an answer for him that would make any kind of sense. So she settled for shaking her head silently, before turning and walking back the way she had come.

The guilt followed her down the hall.

* * *

"How's he doing?" She stepped up beside Wilson by the elevator and he glanced down at her sheepishly.

"Listen – I'm, uh – sorry about what I said the other night. I know you care about House, too. Obviously." He took her elbow and pulled her aside by one of the potted plants that littered the corner of the lobby.

"Wilson – "

"I know why you refused the autopsy – "

"It's a health concern." She spoke shortly and Wilson nodded in a placating way.

"He's blaming you. Not himself – now I'd be stupid to think you didn't know that. And I know you well enough to know it was planned." She glared at him but he shrugged and held out a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. 'Whatever – it's working. He took Steve to the apartment – he's trying to get him sick – "

"Why use Steve?!" She gasped and Wilson looked at her oddly.

"Said he needed a rat that had a clean health record – "

She sighed roughly, amazed at House's anger. Both she and House knew very well Steve didn't have a clean health record. He would have been better off using an unknown rat – but he hadn't and she hated to think that it was because of her. Steve was half hers, after all.

"Where is he now?" she snapped and Wilson pointed to the clinic. She glanced at him with shock before leaving him standing in the lobby alone as she yanked open the clinic doors. Brenda handed her the sign-in sheet before she even had a hand out and she glanced down at it – her eyes widening at the amount of patients he had seen. She placed it back on the counter before walking over to Exam Three. The blinds weren't completely closed and she paused by the window, seeing him with a patient. The small girl was laughing at him as he was shining a flashlight in her face.

He spoke to the mother for a moment and she looked confused and then horrified as her daughter erupted into giggles again. House was watching the girl and she was watching him with a small smile tugging at her mouth. It always amazed her to see how well children reacted to him. He handed the girl a lollipop from his pocket, and high-fived her before the girl and her mother exited the room. She sighed as she watched them, one of the girl's tiny hands wrapped around her mom's and the other wrapped tightly around her sucker. The girl smiled up at Cuddy as she passed, waving slightly, and Cuddy waved back before tearing her eyes away from the pair just in time to see House moving toward the desk with the file.

She hurried over to him. "One afternoon and you're on pace to set a record for most patients seen in a month!" she called as she walked toward him, and he paused with his hand in the air and a frown on his face.

"You're upset that I'm doing clinic hours? Wow that is so like rain on your wedding day." He stared, writing in the chart and she glared at him.

"You can't treat your patient when you're not even on the same floor. Go, clinic is covered." She spoke in a lower voice and he stared at her for a beat.

"I can watch the meds drip into his IV, think that'll make the treatment work faster?" he asked snidely, and she sighed, staring at him pleadingly.

"Go to your office. Play with your ball. Write on your whiteboard, insult your team. Do whatever it is that you need to do to figure things out!" She was almost begging and he was watching her with a thoughtful expression.

"Feeling guilty?" He leaned down as he spoke and she sighed again. "It's not too late to change your mind, go call the CDC, tell them you were just joshing – "

"Keep avoiding Foreman's case until he dies. Then I'll drown in guilt!" she snapped, before turning on her heel and heading into her office quickly. She groaned in frustration when she realized he had followed her. "Dammit, House – "

"I'm working on it. I'm waiting on a test subject – "

She turned quickly, her face lined with sadness. "You're getting revenge by killing my rat – "

"Hey! He's my rat too! I spend way more time with him! Besides, it was the only way – "

She shook her head and he stopped speaking. She walked toward him slowly and he stared down at her with curiosity. "Stop avoiding it and do your job."

"Stop making my job difficult," he shot out, and she only stared back at him quietly as he glared at her. He sighed once, before turning and exiting her office quickly. She watched him go – his shoulders heavy and she closed her eyes to the sight. Instead, she saw small girls laughing and red lollipops, and she felt an obscene urge to cry. Opening her eyes, she sent up a silent plea for Foreman before removing her jacket and turning back to the distraction of paperwork.

* * *

She was still staring blankly at the same piece of paper an unknown amount of time later when he strode back into her office with company. "House, uh, what's this?" She spoke in confusion, although looking at the man accompanying him, she had a sudden sinking feeling.

"He's not a what , he's a _who_. They even have the right to vote now ." She glared at him before sitting up straighter. "Rodney Foreman, Cuddy. Cuddy, Rodney _Foreman._ " She shot a look at House while standing and extending a hand across her desk.

"Nice to meet you ma'am." Foreman's father spoke politely as he shook her hand, and she nodded.

"This is Foreman's dad," House added helpfully and she just looked at him.

"Yeah, I... got that." She spoke in a low voice as she moved out from behind her desk to stand in front of Foreman's father.

"And Dr. Cuddy here is the Dean of Medicine," House was adding, speaking to Rodney this time. "Remember that cool autopsy I was telling you about – the one that can save your son's life? She's the one who can give us the green light to do it." She didn't even look at him as he spoke, instead keeping her face calm as she stood in front of Rodney Foreman stoically.

"I understand that you don't want them to do it. Dr. House didn't seem to know why." Rodney was addressing her now and she flinched slightly before shooting a glare at House and mentally applauding his ability to twist her guilt for his own uses. Hell, _he_ wasn't even aware of how well he was doing it right now

"Mr. Foreman, I am doing everything I can to get the CDC to – " she started gently, only to be interrupted by House.

"Won't be soon enough."

"And my decision to follow public health safety protocols – " She continued on as if House hadn't spoken, never taking her eyes from Mr. Foreman's.

"Oh, don't blame the rules. Don't hang this on policy and protocol!" House interrupted again, walking into her line of vision, but she still ignored him.

"I am well aware – "She paused for a moment before continuing. "– that this may cost your son his life. Just as I am well aware that my decision has a devastating effect on family and friends, without having them paraded in front of me." She shot a small glare at House as she spoke and he glanced down at her knees, unable to meet her eyes. "Your son has an unknown, contagious, deadly infection." She was speaking to Rodney again, her voice slightly desperate and her indecision showing on her face. 'If we don't contain this now – even _more_ people could be at risk – " Her voice broke slightly and she transferred her gaze back to House. "And I am capable of empathizing with those people. too, without having _them _parade in front of me either." She walked back around her desk, struggling to keep a calm exterior when her entire body was shaking with anger and guilt. When she faced them again, she was just barely holding on.

Silence reigned for a tense moment as House watched Rodney, and Rodney looked at her gravely. "I understand," he finally said, and she couldn't help but feel anything but sadness for him as he stood in front of her, devastated by his son's risks. House looked down with disappointment before turning without speaking or looking at her and leaving the office. Rodney nodded to her before following him out the door, and she sank into her chair, numb.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared off at the wall, and she once again rationalized her decision in her own mind. But all her rationalizations just made her guilt magnify and grow until she couldn't do anything but angrily wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop falling. She squared her shoulders, trying to convince herself. Every sacrifice was for a good cause.

* * *

"How're you feeling?" She approached the window with apprehension – really this was only an exercise in futility. Nothing she would get here would make her feel any less guilty. If anything – she expected this would be a painful conversation that induced more guilt. And maybe that was why she had come. She deserved it.

"Why are you here?" Foreman's voice was dull and he sat up to glare at her sightlessly. She didn't have an answer for him that wouldn't make her choke on her own hypocrisy so she remained silent. "I'm sorry House used my dad to try and manipulate you. You've got integrity and you're not going to change your mind just because you're confronted by my father."

She swallowed heavily at his words before she answered in a whisper. "Thank you." Foreman was struggling to stand now and he stilled at the words.

"Just like I'm not going to forgive you just because you came by here to ask how I'm feeling." He snapped and she drew a sharp breath, welcoming the sting.

"You know I had no choice."

"Of course you had a choice!" Foreman was shouting at her now, advancing toward the glass wall and she jerked back slightly at his approach.

"Regulations are clear." Her voice was just tired, not argumentative at all and this seemed to piss him off more as he pushed his face right next to the glass.

"And the punishment for violating these regulations?! Is it death, hm? Because frankly, I'm okay if you get a fine or suspension, hell you can spend a couple years in _jail _if it saves my life!" He was screaming now, his eyes wide and blank – bloodshot and staring right through her in a terrifying way. She stood frozen in place until a bang distracted Foreman.

"You're dying too fast." House was walking up along the glass, watching them intently.

"Couldn't agree more," Foreman stated snidely. House passed behind her and she could have sworn she felt the slightest brush of his hand along her back. Real or imagined, it was immensely soothing.

"Hey, Cuddy," House said as he reached for Foreman's chart. "Having a nice visit?" He spoke sarcastically and she sighed, deciding she had to have imagined it. He put a vial in his mouth before glancing through Foreman's chart.

"What is that?"

House glanced up as she spoke, and mumbled something around the vial, before pausing to take it out of his mouth. "Legionella pneumophila," he said , and she stared at him in shock.

"And why are you carrying a vial of it around with you?"

"Foreman was perfectly healthy before he got this infection. Our cop wasn't – he had Legionnaire's Disease. Our cop didn't turn into brain food until we cured the legionella. " House spoke and she listened intently, looking at Foreman, who was listening as well while staring off blindly. "Legionella slowed the disease."

"Why would that happen?" Foreman asked in a confused voice and House shrugged.

"No idea. I just know that it did." He moved past her and she turned, following him intently.

"So you want to infect Foreman?"

"Why, are you going to tattle to the CDC?" House glanced at her over his shoulder as he walked and she paused by the window and watched as he entered the airlock.

"The meds can't help me but a disease can? Forget it – just take the pain away and put me under!" Foreman shouted, and she stared at him with pity.

"If I put you under, I can't monitor your pain. If I can't monitor your pain, I don't know if the legionella is working," House answered promptly, pressing the button to open the second door with the tip of his cane.

"I'm not consenting to you giving me a – " House tossed the vile before Foreman finished and the shatter shut Foreman up as he backed away in a panic. The door closed again and House frowned.

"Hmm, I wish there could have been a puff of smoke or something – it would have been much more dramatic." House's eyes met hers through the glass and she didn't even move, her eyes glued to the vial on the floor. "Better keep your slippers on," House addressed Foreman in a sarcastic tone. "Wouldn't want you to cut your foot. " He exited the room and pulled her elbow until she was forced to stumble down the hall with him. After a minute or two – once Foreman's shouts couldn't really be heard that well, House stopped and pulled her to a halt. "I'm going to give you a chance to tell me what's going on, before I go beat it out of Wilson."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Her protest was weak and he started walking again, dragging her along by her arm as they wound through the halls.

"Oh, come on! You won't do an autopsy because it's against the rules but you barely blink when I infect Foreman?" He finally pulled her into his office – shutting the door behind them and closing the blinds on Cameron and Chase's curious faces in the conference room.

"If it buys you more time – " she responded slowly, too slowly because he scoffed and shook his head at her.

"No. You could care less about regulations, because you do care about Foreman. So why are you withholding the autopsy?" His voice was insistent and she swallowed nervously, glancing at the door weakly. "Wilson could tell me – "

"Why do you think – "

"Because," he snapped at her, stepping in front of her with a slight growl. "Wilson is the one who's telling me to stop blaming you – so obviously he understands, or thinks he understands, why you're doing this. Care to enlighten me?"

"No," she said in a succinct tone, and he stared at her for a moment, baffled, before his hand rose as if to reach out for her. Halfway there, though, it faltered and fell back to his side.

"What if I have an idea?" His voice was almost a whisper and she shook her head rapidly.

"It's the wrong one." Her voice was shaking and she moved to go around him, only to have him step in her way.

"What of it's not?" He was whispering now, and she didn't respond. "Cuddy – you shouldn't have – "

"I didn't!" she snapped in a desperate voice. "None of this matters now, House – the CDC has Joe's body and there's nothing that can be done. Just – let me go." He stared at her for a beat before he stepped aside, and she pushed the glass door open with relief as she escaped the small confines of his office and his presence.

* * *

She slept as little that night as she had the night before, but at least managed to make it home and look at something other than the four walls of her office. When she got in the next morning, House and Cameron and Foreman's father were waiting for her. House looked slightly better – obviously deciding on a treatment had enabled him to go home, get showered and a change of clothes at least. He looked decidedly unhappy when she walked in, though. She shrugged off her coat and was only halfway to her desk when he was there, handing her a piece of paper.

"Foreman made Cameron his proxy," House spat out, and she frowned down at the paper in her hands before looking back up at him. She walked over to her desk, reading as she went.

"It's legal." She turned back to House, who was clearly upset.

"He's out of his mind! Yesterday he was giggling about a hole in a guy's head!" He had his hands spread and she looked at him in disbelief.

"Then hire a lawyer and challenge it. In the meantime – Cameron's in charge," she said with a sigh. Cameron shot a triumphant glare at House.

"Why would he sign that?" Rodney finally spoke up from where he was standing by the door. Cameron looked over at him with a sigh.

"It's nothing personal, Mr. Foreman," Cameron explained and Rodney stared at her.

"My son doesn't trust me. How exactly is that _not_ personal?"

"I'm sorry," Cameron finally mumbled and House stared at her with a calculating expression.

"You're sorry? You're talking about this man's son! You're denying him the right to – " House began in his best affronted tone and Cuddy watched him, finally sighing . She was tired of this – Cameron and Foreman's plan meant they had a diagnosis and a cure.

"Oh, shut up House!" Cuddy snapped, and House stopped to look at her. "If you wanna do the biopsy, do the biopsy," she said to Cameron, who stood there looking stunned. "If House tries to stop you, let me know and I'll handle him." She could feel House's glare as she spoke – but all she wanted at this point was a diagnosis for Foreman.

"Oh yeah, because you're a hero. If it weren't for you, we'd be cutting into a dead guy's head instead of Foreman's!" Cameron snapped at her and she stood there silently, unable to defend herself. "Sorry… thanks." Cameron spoke quietly before exiting the office. House stood there and looked at her with surprise, before he followed Cameron, leaving Cuddy to deal with offering comfort to Mr. Foreman.

She just wanted a diagnosis.

* * *

"I was right." He dropped into the seat next to her and she turned to look at him in the darkened room.

"I know," she whispered tiredly, tucking her hair behind her ear and closing her eyes for a moment. "Chase came and told me. Has he woken up?"

"Not about that," he scoffed as he looked at her and shook his head. "Well, I mean I was right about Foreman, but I meant I was right about you." Her heart sped up as she stared at him in shock. "Little clue – never trust Wilson with your secrets, he folds like a house of cards."

She turned her eyes from him and stared back into the fire she had lit, despite the fact that it was April and not that cold. She had felt cold when she arrived home. Tired and cold, so she had started a fire and curled up on one end of her sofa to wait. She didn't answer him – she didn't know if he was bluffing or serious. His hand reached across the space between them and he tugged on her arm until she was right next to him, pressed against his side.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I didn't – "

"No, I mean you _shouldn't _have, Cuddy," he said in a harsher tone, and she flinched as his arm tightened around her. "We could have had the answer right away – "

"Maybe not. I had no way of knowing."

"So you planned for the worst." His hand moved up until it found its way to her hair, and he stroked it softly. "You're an idiot." There was no viciousness to his tone, so she relaxed against him, laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I care." The fire crackled merrily as she spoke, throwing shadows over them as they sat, staring into it.

"I know." His response was almost too quiet to hear and she smiled softly in the warm room, closing her eyes and absorbing the glow. It was as close as he came – to thanks, to any type of reciprocation. His face turned into her hair and she felt his breath stir the hair there as her smile widened. "When are you going to tell me?" She froze at his words as they poured down over her like a shock of ice water. How could he possibly know about the treatments?

"Tell you what?" She spoke in a frightened whisper and she felt his sigh in her hair as she waited.

"It's okay," he murmured in a soft voice, running a hand along her arm. "Never mind. You'll tell me when you're ready. It's okay." She swallowed heavily at the unexpected understanding and released the breath she had been holding. Slowly, she began to relax again, as her heart rate calmed down.

"Soon." It was the only promise she could give him and his hand stilled on her arm for a moment before he nodded.

The silence stretched between them comfortably for a while before he extended his legs in front of him and smiled down at her.

"So how do you feel about Europe in the fall?"


	18. Unknown

A/N: It's almost done! sobs Fortuneately I have it's sequeal to keep me going. As usual - This wouldn't be half as good without Alias424's help and guidance. She is the peanut butter to my jelly, or the jelly to my peanut butter. or perhaps some other condiment all together - I should have cleared her preference before writing this rambling AN.

* * *

She felt like time was running out. She hated that feeling – it made her walk a little faster; add more things to her ever growing to-do-list. It made her feel guilty every time she stopped to just breathe. Her nights were spent sitting awake looking at a well worn piece of paper, divided into two columns with tiny cramped writing scrawled over every corner. Known donor versus anonymous.

She would stare at the print until her eyes could no longer focus on the words and she fell into an exhausted sleep. There she would be haunted by images of yellow blankets, blue eyes and red lollipops. Small girls with dark curls and high giggles, solemn boys who frowned thoughtfully up at her as they reached for her face.

It was ridiculous – and tiring. She had the circles under her eyes to prove it, and being cut off from coffee wasn't helping matters at all. If she were truthful with herself – there was only one person she would ever consider for a donation. She made it a policy to almost never be truthful with herself, however – so she read her list and tried to pretend she was considering Wilson. There were no brown eyes in her dreams, though.

She stared at the list, now sitting innocuously on her desk. Try as she might, every time she looked at the pros and cons, she tried to think Wilson but kept seeing small girls with dark hair and blue eyes and red lollipops. She dropped her head into her hands and groaned with frustration. A hesitant knock pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked up slowly to see Chase standing behind her glass doors. She shoved the list out of eyesight before she waved him in.

"I'm sorry – if this is a bad time –" Chase began, and she shook her head, shooting him a tight smile.

"No, no. It's fine, Dr. Chase. What can I do for you?" She watched as he dropped into a chair in front of her desk with a sigh. House's fellows hardly ever came to her for anything – it was an unspoken rule in House's department. Fellows shall not go over House's head to Cuddy. For the most part – it was hardly ever broken.

"I was wondering –" Chase paused and ran a hand through his hair in agitation before he continued. "Are there any ICU positions to cover? Just for – for a week or two?"

"Is there a problem, Dr. Chase?" she questioned carefully, and he met her gaze for a moment before shrugging. Truthfully – she was amazed that this was the first time Chase had asked. He had been with House the longest – longer than Foreman and Cameron by almost seven months. So technically, he had been with House almost three years now. Without a break.

"I just thought – what with Foreman coming back today – House could spare me and I could –"

"You could use a break. From House," she qualified, and after a silent moment he nodded reluctantly. "That's fine, Dr. Chase. I can put you in the NICU for two weeks." She was turning to her computer as she spoke, pulling up the scheduling roster and opening a new memo as she spoke.

"Thanks," he said in a quiet tone as he pushed up from the chair and hovered in front of her desk awkwardly. When she finally looked up from typing the memo, he spoke again. "I don't want you to think that I don't like my job or anything. I do. I love it. House is... well, House. I just – with Foreman lately and the tension with him and Cameron –"

"It's understandable, Dr. Chase. House is brilliant, and a genius, and an idiot and a complete ass. I'm the one person you don't need to explain this to. Will you let him know about your absence?" She fidgeted as she waited for his answer – tucking pens away, her finger flicking the edge of her list, hidden under her day planner.

"Uh – I – uh –" Chase stammered, and she took pity on him quickly.

"I'll send him a memo, too – tell him we're short-staffed in NICU." She said in a patient voice and he shot her a relieved smile.

"You think he'll buy that?" Chase was nervous, and his voice wavered slightly with the question.

"It will be fine." She smiled and he nodded before he left the room as hesitantly as he had entered it, leaving her with a too bright expression pasted on her face. Of course House wouldn't buy that – but if Chase needed time away from him, she would do everything she could to ensure that happened. Including handling House.

When she looked down, she saw her fingers clenched tightly around the list, wrinkling the edge roughly. She closed her eyes, flashes of red, yellow and blue flitting across her closed lids, before she opened them again and turned back to the memo she had started.

* * *

" Wilson!" She caught him just as he went by the clinic, pulling him along until they reached her office. She stopped, her breathing was rapid and she felt suddenly nervous. Her stomach felt ready to rebel at any moment – but she needed to do this. She needed more information – more than what had been scrawled in the corners and on the margins of her list. She needed someone who knew him. And the only candidate for that was Wilson.

"Cuddy?" Wilson was saying her name with a slightly exasperated tone – a sign that it wasn't the first time. She shook her head slowly and shot him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry – just a busy day." She rubbed her slightly damp palms along her black skirt before waving him over to the sofa.

"Busy? It's only eight AM!" Wilson was chuckling and she smiled nervously in return. She paced in front of him, her mind wandering as he stared at her. She needed to know – if it was a ridiculous thought, if he knew some... something about House that she didn't. Something that would let her decide, once and for all. It was a risk that she could calculate – honestly, it was a risk either way, no matter what she decided. Going through with the treatments, period, was a risk she was taking. A risk that House wouldn't be able to handle it, a risk that he would back away from – and then they would slip into the uncomfortable roles they had been playing for the last four years. If she asked him... if she told him – well, it was just a slightly bigger risk, and the consequences were essentially the same. "Cuddy?"

She paused mid-step, turning to Wilson, who was watching her, worried. "I'm sorry, Wilson." She sighed softly and ran a hand through her hair before finally just turning to face him fully. "I wanted to – to see if you'd have dinner with me. Tonight," she clarified, and he looked at her with a surprised smile. Obviously she couldn't discuss this with him here. Nurses, personnel could overhear – not to mention House's habit of showing up just where you didn't want him.

"Dinner?" Wilson's voice was slightly high as he repeated the word, but she didn't notice as she nodded and let out a relieved breath. It was done, and now she _had_ to ask him over dinner – otherwise she'd look a bit ridiculous. Or desperate. "Uh, I – sure. Sure, Lisa, I'd love that." He stood as he spoke, his voice squeaking oddly before dropping down an octave or two lower than usual.

"Good. That's great. We can meet here around six? Is that too late – because I have a five o'clock meeting and I –"

"No." He was backing toward the door and clutching his briefcase tightly as he protested. "No. Six is fine. I'll uh – I'll see you then." He nodded twice before turning and almost stumbling out the door. She watched him retreat quickly and a frown crossed her face. Replaying the scene in her head, her eyes widened with horror.

"Shit!" She exclaimed before shutting her eyes tightly. Crap. There was the distinct possibility that Wilson thought she had just asked him out on a date. "Shit."

* * *

She strode into the hospital, clutching her keys in one hand and her bags in the other. No one paid much attention to her – it wasn't unusual for her to leave the hospital over lunch – some days it was the only way she could get any errands done. Her outer office was empty and she sighed in relief as she unlocked her office and headed over to her desk, dropping her purse and briefcase onto the chair there. She opened the bag, pulling out the Red Clover she had purchased at the pharmacy and turning on a light to read the instructions.

"You're late."

She stilled for a moment, freezing out of shock as she pulled the box toward her middle and out of sight. His voice had come from behind her, so she had to assume he was in the chair there – she would have seen him on the sofa. She let out a shaky breath, pulling her purse over and opening it before she spoke.

"And you're in my locked office. Again." She kept changing the locks, but it never seemed to matter much to him. She shoved the box into her purse with a defeated expression. The mere act alone was enough to make him suspicious. And House was nothing if not intelligent – with an unhealthy amount of curiosity.

"What you got there?" She rolled her eyes, knowing that already it was too late. He was a dog and she was a bone. Still – she had hoped that she could talk to Wilson and make a decision before he figured it all out. Maybe. "Special panties for your date with Wilson?" She frowned as she turned around to face him. There were hints of… she shook her head softly and almost laughed. She was seeing what she wanted to see. She wanted him to be jealous – chances were he was just annoyed by the change.

"It's not a date and it's none of your business," she said quickly as she walked over to the coat tree and unbuttoned her suit jacket.

"If it's not a date, it's business." His eyes tracked her as she hung up her coat while he continued speaking. "And if it's business, you wouldn't say it's none of _my_ business." She rolled her eyes at his backwards logic before turning to glare at him.

"What do you want?" she snapped as she headed back over to her desk.

"I want to talk about your date with Wilson," he responded in an obvious tone. and she picked up her briefcase while attempting to not look at him.

"It's not a date." She almost laughed as she spoke – a sign of her nervousness, one that he would surely catch.

"This is fun." House spoke in a tone that implied the opposite and she headed around her desk, pulling random useless items from her case – anything to keep her occupied. "Spring Chase from the NICU and I'll shut up about your date."

Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second as she realized his purpose here was twofold. Stifling the tiny pang of disappointment she met his gaze head on. "NICU is short-staffed." He frowned at her quickly.

"Have you suddenly lost the ability to lie?" He paused for a moment before swinging his legs down from her coffee table and standing. "Nobody's quit NICU in two years. And if you're making up reasons, that means there is no reason – which means he asked for the assignment, didn't he?" House came to a stop in front of her desk, watching her in a way that was unnerving. She felt her heart rate jump and she had to grip her case tightly to stop her hands from shaking.

"If Chase needs a break from you, he should take it." She tried to sound calm as she sat down, but his eyes were tracking her every move, and almost against her will, her hand shot out and pulled her purse – holding the red clover – towards her. His eyes narrowed for a second and he frowned down at her.

"Absolutely." He spoke more to himself than her, his eyes still focused on her hands before he shook his head and turned to leave. She watched him go – knowing that this wouldn't be the last she heard of this. On either front. Only when she could no longer see him through the glass window panes did she let her head fall to the desk with a resounding thump.

* * *

She wanted the day to drag on forever, so naturally it was six o'clock before she even realized it, and Wilson was walking beside her to her car. He was nervous – more nervous than he had even been that morning, and that was saying something. She didn't speak though, because she was sure that whatever he was more nervous about was almost certainly related to House – and she wasn't asking that question until she had food and something to drink in front of her.

They made awkward small talk as they were seated and she looked longingly at the wine list for a moment before ordering water and a soup, followed by a salad. "So – how have you been?" She cleared her throat awkwardly as Wilson looked up from his cutlery. "I mean with the whole Julie thing – and the, uh – Grace?"

"Oh God, House told you about that?" Wilson's voice was slightly high, and she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "I wasn't involved – I mean, I was, and I'm really sorry about that. It's not like I normally – or ever – date patients but she was –"

"You needed to be needed. I get that. And I'm not here as your boss, Wilson – we're friends too, right?" He jerked his head up and down quickly while she twirled her water glass repeatedly. "Just – the Dean is not hearing anything discussed here, okay?"

"Okay." He drew the word out in confusion before taking a nervous sip of his red wine. She watched enviously, only pulled out of her thoughts by the waiter placing their food on the table. Wilson nodded in thanks and she smiled and picked up her spoon. Wilson was stabbing his salad repeatedly, but not actually eating it, and finally he looked across at her. "Are you okay?" She frowned at his question and he put down his fork. "I mean – really okay? Because you've seemed... off lately – and while part of me wants to attribute that to the fact that you're spending entirely too much time with House lately – I just wanted to... ask, I guess."

"Did he bother you about this…?" She waved a hand across the table and sighed when he winced uncomfortably. "Of course he did. Wilson, I've been – I'm fine. Really. I've just been thinking about things lately. Life, and what I've missed out on –" His frown turned into a look of thoughtful alarm and he stabbed another piece of salad more viciously than before.

"Is this because of House?" In a way, he sounded almost hopeful, and she wrinkled her brow in thought. How to answer that question – because it was a yes and a no. She wanted to gauge House's reaction, using Wilson as a proxy – but she still didn't know what in the hell she was going to do.

"Is what because of House?" She stalled for time and took another sip of her soup.

"You two used to be close – closer than he and I, even. I know it's been a few years – more than a few." He laughed shortly and she found she couldn't meet his concerned gaze head on. It hadn't been as long as Wilson thought. "And I know – when it –" He paused as he searched for words and she continued to examine the fine linen tablecloth closely. "Do you remember that conversation in my office? After the infarction?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, willing the images of those days away. She tried not to think about them, because whenever she did, she got that heavy feeling in her chest, like she was suffocating. Her heart slowed, almost stopped beating, and she felt hollow – a mere ghost emotion of how she had felt during it. "The conversation we're not supposed to discuss or remember?" she finally managed to grind out, and he sighed across the table.

"You thought that this would never happen, Lisa, that he would never forgive you – but I didn't forget what you told me that day. And maybe you shouldn't either." She swallowed sudden tears that were clogging the back of her throat as she nodded. "If you're thinking about what you've missed out on, I just think maybe you should think about what you said that day."

Tears were burning the back of her eyes and she nodded. "I'm going to go to the ladies' room – I'll be back." She didn't meet his eyes as she pushed away from the table and walked blindly to the back of the restaurant. Once inside, she stood in front of the mirror and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

She had almost forgotten that slip she had made in Wilson's office the day House had been put into the coma. And even if Wilson himself didn't understand what his words meant – she felt her heart thundering in her chest as she considered them. She had loved House. Still did, but Wilson didn't know that part – and maybe he was right. Maybe this shouldn't be a question of what was best, but of what she wanted. She wanted a baby. And House. And if she didn't try for both – if she never ever asked – she would constantly look at her child and wonder who he or she would have been if she had. If she could have been ridiculously happy instead of just content.

She held a wet paper towel over her eyes for a moment before standing back up and staring at her reflection. She had stared at herself too many times with the same thoughts running through her mind. She didn't want to make the same choice – the same mistake – again. Straightening her spine, she felt a sense of calm come over her.

Now she just needed to get through this dinner.

* * *

The sun was bright, streaming through her windows as she sat at her desk and filed patient complaints. Not exactly something happy to do first thing in the morning, but something she needed to get done and she had time on her hands this morning.

"So – no circles under your eyes, and Wilson at work afterward last night – date didn't go well?" He mocked her as he walked into her office and she frowned up at him.

"It wasn't a date," she sighed in a tired voice, and he peered down at her intently. She squirmed under his gaze before clearing her throat. "What, House?"

He didn't answer her, just walked behind her chair and stood at her window, staring out at nothing. She turned her chair and stood next to him, folding her arms across her chest. "Hey – remember the last time Chase worked with babies? They died." He spoke in a simple tone and she sighed heavily before glaring at him.

"Uh-huh. Shouldn't be an issue this time around, what with you running around and resuscitating them for him." House winced at her words and glanced down at her.

"Who told you?"

"It's all the nurses can talk about. Mean old Dr. House practically sprinting into the room and saving that baby's life." Her tone rose into a girlish range and he glared at her.

"Whatever."

"I'm not re-assigning Chase," she said simply, and he shook his head, his eyes still on her in an almost invasive way.

"What would you rather?" He spoke thoughtlessly and she held her breath for a moment until the nostalgia of the moment passed with his next words. "Dead babies or me? I mean, of the two you'd think I'm the better choice –"

"House –"

"Did you sleep well last night?" He broke her off abruptly and she stared at him in confusion.

"Fine... why?" Her voice was slow and laced with confusion as his eyes tore away from hers and he stared hard out the window.

"No more nightmares? You weren't sleeping well there for a while. And you gave up coffee – and I haven't seen you drink in a while either. Is there something –" He had swung back toward her, stepping closer and watching her with a frown. She listened silently, watching his face carefully. He almost looked... concerned.

"House?" Cameron was poking her head inside the office, and Cuddy turned to the door, taking an unconscious step back as she did so. "Kara went into an encephalopathic delirium." He nodded in response and turned back to Cuddy.

"Guess this will have to wait." He shot another look at her before he stepped back, and followed Cameron out the door. She watched him go with a frown on her face before turning back to the window and watching the people go by.

* * *

The baby had died, and House had, of course, solved the mystery and saved his patient's life. Not that she had much of one left now that she had to live with the knowledge that she had killed her own child. Cuddy sighed to herself as she went through the expense report, trying to concentrate on the words in front of her instead of that tiny corpse downstairs. Infant deaths were so senseless and painful. She looked up when she heard the door open and saw House standing there. He waited for the door to close before he spoke.

"You don't have cancer." There was an odd quality to his voice – slow and somewhat relieved – and she frowned up at him in confusion.

"You don't have dwarfism," she said with a lift of her brows, watching as he shot her a weary glance.

"You have no proof of that. I, on the other hand, have this." He walked over and handed her a sheet of paper, which she took with a sigh. Her eyes scanned over the results of the PCR until her brain clicked into motion and she stared up at him incredulously.

"You ran a PCR on me without my _consent_?!" she questioned in shock, and he frowned down at her.

"Hey! It's good news." He waved a hand toward the paper and she was dumbfounded for a moment. She couldn't wrap her mind around it – he had thought she had cancer. Which explained a lot, come to think of it – but still. How had he even gotten a sample –

"Really." She spoke in a tight voice as she looked up at him. "It's just hard to access because of this _overwhelming_ sense of personal violation." She stood, taking the folder and the test with her as she walked over to her desk, needing to put some distance between them.

"Deal with it on your own time," he mocked as she walked past him. "Bad news –" He picked up her pen and leaned against the table she had just vacated. "Oestrogen's too high."

She sighed, because she knew exactly where this was going. "No matter how many people you tell otherwise, I am, and always have been, a woman." She put the file down on her desk and stared across at him. "Oestrogen is normal."

His fingers rotated her pen mindlessly as he met her gaze. "Not this much. Not for another week." She frowned over at him in surprise. 'That's when you ovulate," he pointed out helpfully, and she laughed slightly at the absolute ridiculousness of the conversation.

"You monitor my periods?" She paused for a moment and he looked down at the pen he was holding. It would have been scary if it were anyone else. But this was House, and nothing he did or said shocked her anymore. "Based on when I get bitchy or..."

He looked up again, meeting her eyes seriously for a moment. "Once a month when you leave the kids cancer ward, your eyes glisten." He frowned mockingly before glancing down for a moment. When he looked back up, his face was oddly serious. "And about three days later, you break your ban on sugar and chow down on a bucket of frozen yogurt in the cafeteria, sprinkles included. Based on the last yogurt sighting, you've got another week before you ovulate." He was staring at her intently, but his fingers were still fiddling with the pen nervously – the only indication he was at all bothered by anything he was saying. She was torn between being flattered he watched her that closely and annoyed that he... well, watched her _that _closely. If he saw all of that – who knew what else he had observed when she had thought no one was watching.

"You're on fertility meds," he stated simply, and she drew in a breath before denying or confirming. She didn't need to do either because he spoke again. "With red clover as an herbal booster." She blinked, but couldn't really be surprised he knew that, too – not with everything else he was saying. The air in the room seemed suddenly stifled – "Dinner with Wilson... was an audition." He stood and moved toward her and she shook her head slightly in denial. He couldn't think that – "Too bad he didn't land the gig. He would have had fun." His voice was flat, almost disappointed and she bristled at his assumption and implications.

She moved, because if she stayed still she would do something she would regret, and although moving didn't really eliminate the possibility, it gave her the illusion of control. At least until she moved to pass him and his hand snaked out, pulling her to a halt beside him. "So when's my 'dinner'?" His voice was low and somewhat angry in her ear, and she stared up at him, hurt.

"I was going to tell you –"

"When?"

"After your case wrapped up –" She spoke quietly and he looked down at her with a sombre expression.

"It's done." His voice was low and she nodded in response.

"I thought – you hate kids, and I thought maybe you would just..." She didn't quite know how to put it in words – her fear of him leaving seemed ridiculous and out of place now.

"What?" His voice was almost a whisper and his hand released her elbow, moving up to her shoulder and running down her arm in a gentle motion so unlike him.

"I was afraid –"

A knock on the door stopped her and they both glanced to the left to see Wilson's sheepish face poking through the door. "Your patient won't let me touch her." His voice was apologetic and House nodded before stepping back.

"I hate this case," he mumbled, shooting her a long look before turning and exiting her office without another word. She stood by her desk, an intense feeling of dissatisfaction unfurling low in her belly. It had almost happened, and she could practically feel his body heat still with her. Closing her eyes, she sagged against the chair in relief and regret.

* * *

He hadn't told Wilson.

She had been amazed, surprised – and it had led her here, well past midnight and standing in front of his door nervously.

He hadn't told Wilson.

She knocked, the sound timid. She was about to knock again – louder and more assertively – when the door opened and he stood there staring at her. She took a deep breath and pushed past him without waiting for an invitation, turning as he closed the door.

"I was worried. We're –" She struggled for an appropriate description before settling on the banal. "Friends. And we haven't always been. It's just getting back to –" She stuttered to a halt, glancing down at his floor because his eyes always saw too much when they looked at her. "I want a baby," she whispered and looked up at him, relieved to actually say it. She wanted to ask him – she wanted to so desperately, but the words seemed to crowd in her throat and she couldn't force them out.

"Why?" His voice was genuinely confused and she felt her heart drop from her throat down to her toes. The sensation of it almost made her sick.

"I waited – for so many things. I put my career before everything else – and it cost me. It cost you, too." She was speaking a little louder now, and he frowned. "If I had made different choices from the start, House – who knows where I'd be?" He nodded but didn't speak, and she had to fall silent for a moment before she could find the courage to continue. "I sacrificed the person I – " She broke off, finding it difficult to breathe in the suddenly stifled room. "– loved for my career. I just can't do that again. I'm not going to find the man of my dreams and get married and buy a fence for my yard. Even if I wanted to – I'm running out of time."

"Cuddy –" His voice was oddly choked and she shook her head quickly as he moved to step closer to her. She held up a hand in protest, stilling him mid-step.

"I want a baby. And I want one while I can still have one. My own baby –" She shook her head and closed her eyes, willing the tears threatening there not to fall. "I was afraid you wouldn't support that decision."

"Why would you think that?" He spoke in a shocked tone – and finally moved closer, stealing the air from around her as he stepped into her personal space. "Cuddy. You've been the only one –" He paused and she looked up at him pleadingly. "I would support anything that you needed to make you happy." The words were gruff, and he was speaking to his floorboards, but she felt that odd pang in her chest as she smiled tremulously.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft and she reached for one of his hands, placing her own in it and squeezing gently.

"Seriously, though? A sprog?"

"It wasn't an audition. With Wilson. I wasn't considering him for a donation –"

"Why not?" He was quiet again and she stared up at him, wondering just how much bravery she had left.

"I just – he wouldn't have been... he's my friend," she finished lamely as her reserve of courage dwindled. "It's a lifetime thing – and I couldn't ask him to – I'm just going to use a donor."

His hand tightened around hers for a moment before he spoke again. "I'll help." She blinked in astonishment and it must have shown on her face because he let go of her hand quickly. "I mean, I'll help you pick. A donor." He spoke quickly, his voice tinged with panic and distaste.

"You will?" she asked doubtfully, and he nodded.

"Sure. You want some random guy to have a baby with, you should at least make sure you pick the right random guy, right?" He was moving away as he spoke and she nodded slowly, more than a little disappointed even if she would only admit it to herself. He rubbed at his leg absent-mindedly as he walked and she watched him with a frown.

"How's your pain?" she interjected, and he paused, looking down at his hand in surprise.

"Fine," he said tersely and she nodded, content to let it go for the moment. "So if you want my help –" He was attempting to distract her, and she let him.

"Yeah, I'll... give you the files of my top selections." Her voice was soft and she glanced at him thoughtfully. The room was dimly lit and there seemed to be a hush settling over them – one she was almost afraid to break. "I should go," she whispered, and he nodded awkwardly from where he stood a few feet away. "House…" She glanced back at him as she paused by the door, her hand on the knob.

"Yeah?" He swallowed after speaking, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Thank you." He nodded in response and she sighed softly before twisting the knob in her hand and pulling the door open. As she walked back to her car, she inwardly cursed her cowardice. Her heart was pushing her to go the distance, and say everything she had wanted to – but her head was screaming in protest. He seemed fine with the idea of her plus a baby. If she threw him into the mix – it might be the one thing that scared him off.

In the end, she could handle living with her regrets. She just wasn't so sure she could handle living without him again.


	19. Matter

A/N: I am just realizing this is all gonna end rather nicely on Chapter Twenty. I like when fics end on nice even complete numbers, because I'm OCD like that. So only one chapter left of this, and then I move on to the sequel. After much debate, I've decided I'm keeping the rating at a strong T with some R moments. So nothing too terrible in this chapter, IMO. As usual I owe my soul to Alias424 for doing her usual fabulous job with this. She's made of awesome, even if she denies it.  
And now I'll shut up so you can read.

* * *

"We've got a case in the ER." Brenda knocked briefly before striding in and opening with that gem, and Cuddy looked up from the donor profiles she was perusing with a sigh. It wasn't even noon yet.

"Yes, generally as a rule we get _lots _of cases in the ER." Cuddy spoke in a sharp tone but held her hand out for the file nonetheless, and Brenda smirked as she placed it there. Cases got hand delivered to Cuddy for one of three reasons. It was a donor or someone related to a donor, it was something that required an endocrinologist – and the current head of that department couldn't handle it, or it was a House file. It was what she liked to call those cases that came in and you only had to take one look at the file to know it would end up in Diagnostics. A House file. Judging by the look on Brenda's face currently, it was definitely the latter.

"Young girl, sixteen – presented with hallucinations and cardiogenic shock but no heart attack. Plus the guy who brought her in? Says he's a friend of House's." Brenda snorted as she spoke, indicating how much she believed that particular statement, and Cuddy glanced up at her sternly.

"It's House's day off – inform the –" She paused and looked at Brenda with a frown.

"Father," Brenda said helpfully, and Cuddy nodded before continuing.

"Inform the father that Dr. House will have to be called in and he can expect him shortly." She turned to the phone when she finished speaking, only to pause as Brenda cleared her throat politely. "Yes?"

"It's House's day off. He barely comes in on time when he _is_ scheduled to work – don't you want me to wait–"

"There was no heart attack. Trust me – when he hears that, he'll drop the nothing he's doing and come in. Go, tell the father." Brenda nodded once before turning on her heel and exiting the office swiftly. Cuddy watched her go before turning back to the phone and dialling his number quickly. She called his house first – since she knew he didn't have caller ID and he wouldn't answer his cell when he saw it was her.

It rang three times, and she waited patiently for the answering machine to kick in, silently praying he actually had it on today. "You've reached a number that has been disconnected and is no longer in service." House's voice echoed mechanically in her ear and she rolled her eyes hard at his miserable attempt to be witty. "If you feel you've reached this message in error – go with it. Hang up. On three. One, two –" Thankfully, a beep cut him off.

"House, pick up." She knew he was there – both she and Wilson were at work– so where the hell else would he be? "I know it's your day off, and you've no doubt got _lots_ of exciting plans –" She wasn't even attempting to veil the sarcasm in her voice – but it was how they handled each other. And aside from a few meetings over the last few days, they had been treading carefully after what she privately referred to as Babygate. "But I've got a case. Sixteen-year-old girl presenting with cardiogenic shock." She paused, knowing he was probably right next to the phone listening. "No heart attack."

She hung up with a sharp click and leaned back, watching the clock on her desk. It would take him at least two minutes to mull over the possibilities, and another minute for him to weigh if it was still worth coming in. She took the opportunity to read the girl's – Leona's – file. Four minutes had passed when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID to be sure and picked it up with a smile.

"You can't have cardiogenic shock without a heart attack." He spoke without preamble and she didn't bother with niceties.

"Well tell that to her face. Or the EKG machine that ran the tests. You could say it to who I've no doubt you'll claim is a moronic doctor in the ER but you'd _actually _have to come in for that, so you may as well look at the file while you're here," she shot back and listened as he sighed into the receiver, the sound carrying down the line until she could practically feel it. She paused, holding her breath for a minute to listen to his. It sounded laboured and she frowned and finally exhaled softly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he bit off, and she laughed into the phone.

"Yeah. And I believe you. Is your pain worse –"

"I said it's fine, Cuddy," he ground out, and she sighed soundlessly, deciding to let it go. Despite his offer of support the other night, he had been walking on eggshells around her, and she felt guiltier about her choice every time he looked at her. In her gut, she felt like he was still angry. And the only reason for that was that he didn't think her doing this on her own was a good idea. _It's not his choice._

"Can you come in?" She chose to ignore any subtext to the conversation and get straight to the point.

"Yeah. I'll be there in an hour." He hung up without saying goodbye, and she placed the phone back in its cradle with a small smile. She'd get Brenda to keep an eye out for him. Turning back to the potential donor files in front of her, she swallowed heavily. Every time she looked at one, something felt out of place deep within her. She pushed the feeling down, though, and picked up the files. He'd said he wanted to help – and this was how.

She would just have to deal with the reality she had made for herself.

* * *

She wasn't exactly waiting for him, per se. At least, she attempted to convince herself of that fact as she lingered in the clinic, staring out the doors with Leona's file in one hand and three others in manila envelopes in her other one.

"Don't you have a hospital to run?" Brenda was speaking in a low voice as she signed off on files at the desk, and Cuddy glared at her.

"I heard that," Cuddy pointed out, and Brenda looked up with an arched brow.

"You were supposed to. Meanwhile, you're a terrible stalker and your prey is getting away." Brenda pointed over Cuddy's shoulder through the doors and Cuddy turned to see House moving through the lobby.

"One of these days I'm going to fire you," she shot over her shoulder as she pulled open the clinic doors.

"You couldn't run this place without me!" Brenda shouted back with a laugh before the door closed and silenced her. Cuddy wove through the crowded lobby, finally catching up with House at the elevators. She stepped on after him, and he rolled his eyes as she hit the fifth floor button and handed him the file.

He scanned the pages quickly, and she stepped off the elevator with him as well. "Her heart looks fine. ER did a full cardiac work-up. Tox screen's clean, bloodwork shows no sign of infection –" She was speaking and walking quickly, trying to keep up with him. She glanced down at his leg as he walked ahead of her. House almost never moved this fast – unless he was trying to outrun the pain.

"All on the top page. I'm a real good reader." He spoke in a sarcastic tone before frowning down at her. "Personal chart handoff means there's something else. I'm hoping it's not personal." She glared up at him before rolling her eyes. They rounded the corner and he slowed to a halt, staring down the hallway.

"The guy who brought the girl in said he knows you. I thought I'd met all your _friend_." She couldn't resist her own jab, and he glanced down at her as she looked up at him innocently. She frowned after a second, though, clutching the other files in her hands tightly. "Also, I was wondering if you could look at these, when you had a chance." She handed him the envelope, which he took without looking at her, his eyes still on what she assumed was Leona's father down the hall. "No hurry, it's just a couple of medical histories, one with a minor cancer concern –"

"No problem." House cut her rambling off, and she frowned at his back, since he had turned away from her as he spoke. She contemplated going after him – but decided it was best to leave things alone for now. Once he read the files, he'd know what it was for – and she had an actual job to do. She'd wasted enough time already that morning. She heard the guy call House 'G-Man' and she had to muffle a snort of laughter as she sped down the hall and went back to her usual routine.

* * *

She almost made it to lunch without him coming after her. This clearly meant that the case he had was turning out to be more complicated than he'd thought. She almost allowed herself to hope for half a second that he wouldn't get around to the files anytime soon and she would be spared what was sure to be an incredibly uncomfortable conversation.

When her office door opened just before noon, Cuddy stilled, knowing that any hope she held had just died. She looked at him expectantly and somewhat nervously as he stood there holding the files with his brows raised.

"Interesting reading." He glanced at the files as he stood in the doorway, and she sighed softly to herself. _Let the games begin._

"Those are my top two choices for sperm donors. I wanted your medical opinion on genetics." She met his eyes straight on and tilted her chin slightly as he walked slowly toward her desk. She had struggled with this choice – and she could do nothing but stand by it now.

He dropped the files on her desk carelessly. "They're losers." He spoke in a tired tone as he sat in the chair in front of her desk, stretching his legs out as he slouched slightly.

"Uh, _medically_ or...?" She picked up the files, and she asked the question even though she already knew the answer.

"Donor 1284 likes square dancing." He paused and she stared at him with expectancy. "No one likes square dancing. 613 has been practicing medicine for five minutes and calls himself a healer. Loves Mozart." House pulled a face as he spoke, and she pulled the files closer to her as she felt her defences rise. He had said he wanted to help her – _this_ wasn't helping.

"I'm not going dancing with them, I'm looking for healthy sperm." She shot House a glare as she pointed to one of the files next to her. "He's got _four_ living grandparents –"

"Who they are? What they do, that doesn't matter?" House was frowning across the desk at her, and she felt tiny tendrils of guilt uncurl somewhere under her heart. Because it _did _matter – and if she could have everything she wanted….

But she couldn't. And dwelling on it wasn't helping anything.

"I'm leaning toward 613," she said quickly, trying to cut any guilt off at the roots as she spoke wistfully. It was second best, and she was settling, she knew.

"Oh sure. Go with the Jewish number." He was mocking her now, and she had to force herself to ignore him as she continued.

"1284 has a cousin who tested for the BRACA gene –" she started, her fingers nervously flipping through the pages as she avoided his too-direct gaze.

"But his mother tested negative, which means so does your baby." Her fingers slipped at his words and she had to take a breath to calm her nerves. Her baby. It was the first time anyone had said it out loud – outside of her own head.

"What about the –" She failed to finish a question again as he cut her off.

"The Mediterranean-Dutch factor on the father's side's not a problem. Because his dad's mom didn't carry the thalassemia gene." House answered her before she had barely started the question, and she stared across at him with wide eyes. "Bigger issue is the jerk and poser genes. This Mozart lie –"

She scowled at him as he spoke. "People can't like classical music?" she muttered as she started gathering various folders. Her irritation was growing with each breath, because of course House would take issue with anyone she found. But he would never offer the obvious solution either and it made her head ache.

"You're _designing_ a kid – a loser kid. He's already getting pummelled at recess." He watched her as she stood and smiled tightly across at him. Her hands clenched around the stack of files that had been causing her sleepless nights as she attempted to swallow her irritation. It stuck there, though, and she would either choke on it or cough it up.

"Here." She picked up the impressive stack of files and started walking around her desk. "Knock yourself out." She dropped the files in his lap, not even waiting to see if he would catch them or not. He did, and she felt a tiny granule of disappointment slide into her belly at the sight. "Go find sperm that can beat up 613's kids. And thanks for your help." He would have to be dead to not hear the sarcasm dripping from her words like acid – she could almost smell paper burning because of it. She walked toward the door.

"Pretentiousness is hereditary. Just 'cuz they haven't found the gene yet –" He was shouting at her retreating back, but she clicked the door shut behind her and cut him off. She was beyond caring if he rifled through her things while alone in her office – chances were she had no secrets from him anymore anyway. With a soft sigh of exasperation, she headed into the clinic – searching for anything to distract her from House and the seeds of doubt that he liberally rained all over.

* * *

She went to her appointment the next morning, somewhat happier after a full night's sleep. It was literally and figuratively in House's hands now – and somehow she felt the burden lifted, at least for the night, so she was able to stop worrying for six hours straight and sleep.

"Hi Lisa." Robin had entered the exam room and immediately moved over to the portable ultrasound machine. Cuddy could only smile tightly in response, her nervousness increasing with the appearance of the doctor. "Oh, that good, huh? Nervous?" Robin's voice was teasing and Cuddy swallowed roughly

"No, just eager, I guess." Cuddy's voice was strangely reluctant, and Robin frowned down at Cuddy as she pulled her legs into position for the ultrasound.

"Sure. You sound it, too." Her voice was dry and she frowned at the images on the screen. "So your cycle started three days ago, correct?" There was no censure in her tone, but Cuddy felt herself bristle slightly at the words.

"Yes – and I would have been in sooner but–"

"Anytime in the first three days is fine, Lisa." Robin's voice was soft and she took a few pictures before removing the wand and sanitizing it. She stood, stepping over to the desk and pulling the privacy curtain as she did so. Cuddy sat up, pulling her skirt back on quickly.

"And?" Cuddy's voice was nervous as she asked, and she jerked the curtain back before sitting in the chair to pull her shoes on.

"It looks good. We're going to start you on Pergonal, twice daily injections. After approximately eight to fifteen days, depending on how the follicle growth is – we'll do the first injection." Robin was writing the script as she spoke, pulling it off and handing it over when she was finished. "Are you going to need appointments for injections, or do you have someone who can give them to you?"

Cuddy took the paper and stared at it in dazed confusion – it was like literally holding the first part of her future in her hands. She was vaguely aware of Robin's question and nodded. "I can get someone to do them – at the hospital."

"Good. Then I'll see you in two days for your next ultrasound. Start the menotropins as soon as possible. This morning, if you can. I'll have Susan call you with your next appointment, all right?" Robin stood, placing a hand briefly on her shoulder before exiting the room and leaving Cuddy sitting there, staring at a tiny piece of paper that was somehow going to grow into a child, like magic.

She filled the prescription at a pharmacy on the way to the hospital. She didn't need any more talk than there already was, so filling it at the hospital pharmacy, while convenient – was too risky. So the vials and needles were already hidden in her drawer by the time she smoothed sweaty palms over the dark material of her skirt and opened the door in front of her.

House was with a patient – a small boy stained somewhat red. House was saying something to him when she opened the door but his eyes met hers immediately. "Need you." She spoke tersely, unable to get anything more descriptive out. "Now," she added, and his eyes lightened for a moment as he stared at her.

"Yes, mistress." He spoke in a low tone and the she shot a twisted smile at him as she closed the door on the boy's giggles. She moved back to her office quickly, pulling the front blinds shut and standing uselessly in the middle of the room, avoiding all eye contact with the syringe she had just filled. This was really going to happen. She was really doing this. She jumped slightly when the door sprung open and he strode in. He paused as the door closed, looking around at her suddenly closed-off office.

"You didn't tell anyone else what I'm doing?" Her voice was rough and nervous, and he looked at her seriously.

"Not a soul." His words were uttered with such conviction she physically faltered in her steps while she moved around the room, closing the back window blinds as well.

"Wilson?" She looked over her shoulder as he shook his head silently and moved further into the room, his eyes tracking her as she moved from blind to blind. "Your team, maybe you mentioned it to them?"

"No, I'm a really good secret keeper," House said in a normal tone, which caused her to look at him with a frown. Normal House just didn't happen. "I never told anyone that Wilson wets his bed – oh, you tricked me." His humour wasn't as biting as usual, but she smiled as she closed the last blind anyway, welcoming the relief.

"Part of my treatment for IUI is twice daily injections of menotropins." She moved over to her desk and picked up the syringe and an alcohol wipe and turned to him, holding them up. "I can't do it myself." She didn't voice the words as a request – she couldn't bring herself to, not really. But the question was clear in her eyes as she stood in front of him and his eyes met hers, with some unknown curiosity dancing in them.

"Turn around." He spoke simply as he hooked his cane on the chair and took the drugs from her hands.

"No clever comments about bending over?" She was shocked by his quick acceptance – she had thought for some reason that he would need to be talked into this. She gathered her skirt in one hand as she turned her back to him.

"Not unless you want me to," he responded quickly, and she let out a little sigh, not really able to answer that. She finished gathering her skirt and used her other hand to brace herself on the desk as she leaned over.

"Just not used to House the professional," she mumbled, fidgeting nervously while she waited. There was a soft pause that lasted a little too long, and she peeked over her shoulder to see him staring down at her ass. When he noticed her noticing, he cleared his throat a little and she turned back, trying desperately to ignore that tingle that was spreading lower and lower as she waited. She was anticipating, that was all. Drugs. She was anticipating drugs and not any other kinds of feelings. Drugs.

"I was thinking about your mother." He was covering, and she wondered idly if he actually thought she would buy that. "Because your father obviously chose her for _breeding_ purposes-"

"Shut up!" she snapped in mild irritation, but not meeting his gaze again.

"Natural selection sucks." House was speaking and she heard the sound of the wipe being opened. "We pick our mates based on breast size, cars they drive." He shifted in closer until she could feel the heat from his skin and she struggled to remember to breathe. "They did autopsies on married couples," he continued, and she tried to pay attention but then the wipe was on her skin – one small, tiny, thin cotton layer between his hands and her skin and she lost all ability to think. Her breathing was shallow and she felt the heat pooling in between her legs and closed her eyes for a second, willing the feeling away. Her hand pushed against the desk harder, as her legs couldn't be relied on properly at the moment. "We're hard-wired to pick for stupid reasons. You have the chance to pick for smart ones." His voice finally filtered through and she looked up, hoping he hadn't noticed her distraction. His hand was still circling slowly as she tried to remember what he had said.

"I think the Germans had a similar theory about sixty years ago." She attempted to cover her own reactions with sarcasm and he huffed behind her.

"I'm not advocating wiping out entire races. I'm just saying you might not want to mate with the first plastic cup that buys you a drink." As he spoke, his hands were still slowly circling the area with the wipe. Each swipe slowed more and more until she was almost swaying in response, and it suddenly felt like there was no air in the room. This was a caress and her skin and body recognized – and yearned for – it while her mind screamed weakly in protest.

"I'm pretty sure you got that." She glanced down at his hand, and the image imprinted on her mind in permanent marker, un-erasable. Even her voice was betraying her, because what she had intended to come out as a command came out deep and husky and definitely flirty.

House froze at her words though, and she felt the cloud of tension around her lift as his hands stilled. "Microbes can be sneaky," was his own verbal defence, and she grinned before turning away again. He stabbed the needle through her skin in the next second, and she exhaled sharply.

"Ow," she mumbled, feeling the drug slide into her skin, slightly cold. When he removed the needle, she stood awkwardly. "Thanks."

"Twice a day." House spoke roughly as he capped the syringe and handed it back to her. When she met his eyes, he opened his mouth again. "This is gonna be fun!" She sighed as she took the needle from his hands.

"Thank you," she repeated, more seriously this time, and he glanced down and away from her uncomfortably.

"It's fine. You want me to gaze at your ass twice a day – I was already doing it five times that much for no good reason at all." He was speaking in a low tone she had to strain to hear and he stepped back, putting much needed distance between them. Now that she had it, though, she suddenly wanted it to disappear. "I should – my patient, and I'm not done in the clinic."

She nodded at his words before watching him escape the room and it's ever-changing atmosphere. She wanted to drag him back, grasp him tightly in her hands and pull him against her until she felt the friction of the movement in all the right places. She closed her eyes, trying to tell herself it was the drugs – and nothing else.

_Right._

* * *

"I just don't get him." Wilson had cornered her in the lobby, and she was trying to follow the conversation he was apparently picking up with, but she couldn't quite get there.

"What?"

"House. And Crandall." She frowned at the slightly unfamiliar name and Wilson sighed. "The friend with the sick kid. Turns out that House knew this guy in his twenties. Guy's in love with a girl House doesn't approve of, so House sleeps with her!" Wilson spat out in a whisper and she watched him run his hand through his hair roughly.

"So? It's _House_. He probably thought he was doing the guy a favour – who knows, maybe he was. But the point is that you know House. When he thinks you're wrong about something, he'll do anything to prove it to you." She shrugged as she spoke, and her words only slid to a halt when she saw how Wilson was staring at her, mouth hanging open.

"You're only saying that because it isn't you. It isn't _you_ he's messing with – it isn't your wives he's driving away or possible relationships he's screwing up by making you think they're consults!" Wilson's voice was still a whisper, but an alarmingly high one, and she glared at him and put a hand on his sleeve.

"Really, you want to compare times that he's messed up my personal life? I have a list – it's kind of big though, let me go get it–"

"Fine. I get it." Wilson rolled his eyes as he spoke. "All I'm saying is, with friends like him –"

"He cares, Wilson. He just has an incredibly twisted, bizarre, somewhat tortuous way of showing it." She tried to reassure him, but Wilson just sighed heavily.

"I thought this guy was an example. That twenty years, or thirty years, or whatever, down the line, House can be a good friend and be there for me." Wilson looked dejected as he spoke and she squeezed his arm gently.

"I'm an example of that, Wilson. And you've known him for almost as long as I have – he is a good friend. Just never when you expect him to be." As reassurances went, it was weak, but she smiled at him anyway and slid her hand from his arm before moving past him to the clinic. She was at the desk with Brenda when she spotted the movement in her office. She didn't even waste time wondering who it could be – she simply sighed and walked through her office door.

"House." She stepped into the room and saw the other person there, a nervous man sitting in front of her desk while House lounged behind it. "What are you...?"

"Lisa Cuddy, this is Patrick Glidahan. Patrick's going to be the new intern rotating in my department." She eyed the nervous young man dubiously before looking back over at House.

"I didn't even know you were looking for one." She smiled and held out a hand to Patrick. "Nice to meet you." He took her hand and let out a high pitched laugh followed by a snort. She looked at him in horror as he apologized quickly.

"Sorry. I laugh when I'm nervous." He looked mortified and House smiled benignly from across the – her – desk.

"Bet you've been doing that your whole life, huh?" He handed Patrick's resume over to her as he spoke, and she took it, for lack of anything else to do with it.

"What kinds of medicine are you interested in, Patrick?" She walked behind her desk, only to stop short because House was there and she had forgotten him for a moment.

"Cancer, infectious disease. The big devils." Patrick leaned forward with excitement, and she had to stop staring at him before she burst out laughing. House would not hire this guy. Which meant House was up to something. She narrowed her eyes at him as Patrick continued. "I think that medicine has become too institutionalized. We need to send a message to our patients that we're just like them. I mean, we're all people." She glanced at him incredulously for a moment as she took it in.

"We're all people," House repeated reverently, and she looked at him suspiciously. He wasn't even looking at her, which she _knew_ meant he was up to something. "I like that. She's all hard science and facts. I like to know people's hopes and dreams. What kind of music do you like, Patrick?" She almost missed the question while trying to wrap her mind around the thought of House wanting to know someone's hopes and dreams. But when his voice finally caught up to her, horror washed across her face and she felt a violent urge grip her tightly.

"Actually, I don't –" She stared at House as she spoke, her eyes drilling into the side of his head.

"I'm a Mozart man," Patrick said eagerly. "He says what I feel but can't express." Patrick stared at her as he spoke, and she looked at House with disappointment and anger. House finally glanced up at her, and she shook her head.

"I'm late for a meeting." She glared at him, but House ignored her.

"See, this is why the face-to-face interview is so important." House spoke around her as she leaned over him, gathering files and wishing they were alone so she could kill him. "Got to know who you're getting in bed with." House nodded, and Patrick looked confused and frightened. She jerked her drawer opened, slamming it into House's stomach before she placed the file in there. Sliding it slowly shut, she leaned down, right by House's face.

"Get him out of here." It was all she could whisper without scarring the poor kid for life. She didn't say another word as she stalked out of her office, planning ways to kill Gregory House with every step. Her own words to Wilson earlier came back to haunt her as she cursed House under her breath.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour later when he paged her to the clinic. She sighed, glancing at her watch – knowing she was due for another injection, but more likely to kill him then bare her ass at the moment. He was sitting and waiting when she opened the door. She managed to close it before she spoke to him.

"The process is confidential. You violated his privacy!" She gathered her skirt as she spoke, leaning against the exam table. "How did you even –"

"I looked up loser in the cryobank." He spoke bitterly, and she felt the wipe on her skin again, but she was too angry to notice his slow strokes this time. She was focused on his words. "You wouldn't go within a hundred miles of that idiot, and yet you're willing to have his baby." His voice was rough and there was a thread of repressed anger in it as he continued to wipe her skin roughly.

"I'm not looking for a date," she snapped back, before the truth of that particular statement hit her sadly. "I'm tired of looking for – ow!" He jabbed her, and she sucked in a breath as she glared at him over her shoulder. He threw the needle in the trash and handed her something over her shoulder.

"Cotton ball?" he offered, not at all nicely, but she took it with a slight smile anyway because she knew he didn't apologize. Ever. "Look, I don't care if you marry this guy, date this guy, go through his garbage." She wanted to laugh at that – but just as she had lies she told herself daily, she couldn't very well ask him if he told the same ones. "But you should know…." He paused, and she held her breath as he stepped into her space, his eyes intent on hers. "Genes matter. Who you _are_ matters. Find somebody you trust." She exhaled slowly at his words as he stepped past her toward the door. She felt some form of panic clawing up her throat as he walked away, and she opened her mouth.

"Somebody like you?" The words were out before she could stop them, and he paused, looking down at the floor. All she could do was stare and wait helplessly. His hand dropped down to his thigh, squeezing there in what must have been a painful manner, but he didn't flinch. When he looked up, his eyes were shadowed and he frowned at her.

"Someone you like." He left before she could respond, and she trembled in the overly bright room once he had gone. It was a copout, she knew. He knew that she liked him. Cared about him. But with House, it was what was said between the lines that mattered, and the only thing she could think he was saying made her heart almost stop as she moved over to the chair and sat. Her legs felt weak, and she felt clamminess steal over her skin. She took a deep breath and tried to be rational. He wasn't saying what she thought he was. She was just thinking wishfully.

Wasn't she?

* * *

She didn't sleep well the next night, nervous about how their next meeting would go. Surprisingly, it went fine. And quickly. No mention of anything said or done yesterday as she bent over (in a tighter skirt this time) no lingering swipes – just him giving the injection quickly before mumbling something about his patient and leaving just as fast. She was thankful, she told herself. Thankful that she didn't have to deal with it. Him.

But as the day went on, she found herself turning his words over in her head until they were so well worn by her mind, she could barely feel the edges to flip them. When her second needle went by, with the same results – she decided that she couldn't really do this. Not with him – it was a slow torture to have him involved, but not _involved_. Not really. Not in the way she wanted him to be. She could get Brenda to give her the injections – she knew she could trust her.

She was repeating this to herself as she walked up the hall to his office that night. Her steps were soft in the hush of the hall, even Wilson was gone for the night. She pushed his door open quietly, trying to keep the words in her head. He looked up as she entered, his face uncharacteristically calm. She moved in front of his desk with a nervous smile as she worked up the courage. To tell him that she suddenly realized she couldn't deal with this – that she needed him to get out or come all the way in, but just stop lingering in the doorway and letting all the heat out, dammit.

He watched her, tilting his head in an almost encouraging manner as he didn't speak. She took a deep breath, hoping it would help, and he nodded slightly, as if giving her his permission to do it. She opened her mouth, sure she could do it – that this was the moment.

"Thank you for the injections," was all that came out, and she blinked slightly. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she felt like she was being torn apart, but he mattered to her. And if she felt this bad at just the thought of putting herself at risk, how badly would she hurt if he said no? She sighed slightly, almost disappointed in herself as he frowned at her.

"You're welcome." His voice was almost warm, and she turned back to the door, intent on escape – because her resolve was weak and she was in more pain that she could handle right now. "You came all the way up here just to tell me that?" He spoke when she was almost at the door, and she turned with a disappointed smile.

She couldn't ask him. She couldn't take the risk, just like she had never been able to take the risk with him so many countless times before. Once. She had taken the leap once, but by then it had been too late – and that one risk had cost her so much. "No." She smiled as she answered, because she knew that that one non-answer was all she could give him.

He frowned thoughtfully as he watched her walk away, and she smiled again more fully this time. Because it was all he needed.

* * *

She didn't undress after work, just slid off her suit coat and left her shoes by the door. She didn't open the bottle of wine she so desperately wanted but couldn't have, and she didn't get into the tub. She sat in the lingering darkness, staring at how pale her hands seemed in the dim light. She didn't flinch when the knock came, and she didn't act surprised when she opened the door to him. She just pulled it wide open, and stepped aside, waiting.

He followed her into the living room and stood in front of her silently, staring at her like he could read her mind if he tried hard enough. She didn't speak, just stared back, for once; letting him look all he wanted and never tearing her own eyes away. Silence stretched thin to the point of shattering around them in millions of tiny soundless pieces.

She was barely breathing, the rise and fall of her chest shallow as she tried to search for the molecules of air interspersed among the tension. Finally he stepped toward her with one hand up, grasping at air until it came in contact with her jaw line, his fingers smoothing along the skin there until his hand was cradling her neck and chin.

"You like me." His voice was soft, and she nodded, not even denying it as he stepped closer still, until his body was pressed against hers. "Why didn't you ask?" She saw the hesitation in his eyes and her mouth twisted into half a smile as she looked up at him.

"I like you too much." He nodded in understanding at her words and looked down at her, his face so close, his forehead was brushing against hers.

"Ask me," he commanded softly, and she let out a relieved breath, all the air rushing from her lungs until she was sure the alveoli were pressed against the bronchial tubes inside. She shook her head, unable to breathe or speak with his hand tracing along her neck like that.

"Ask me," he repeated, and she swallowed heavily, dimly aware of a clattering noise in the distance as his mouth descended on hers. He pulled her against him, and she felt a plethora of different textures pressed into her overly sensitized skin. His mouth was covering hers, and she opened her own under it as she felt his other hands slide down the back of her black satin camisole until it reached the end and his fingers brushed against her cool skin. She could barely stand when he finally lifted his head and her eyes met his.

"Cuddy." His voice was a plea and a command as her name was stretched around by his lips and teeth and tongue until she wanted to give him anything and everything just to make him say it again. "Ask me."

"Will you donate –" She didn't get any further as his hands gripped her waist and she was pressed even closer to him, although she was sure it wasn't physically possible, and his lips descended once more, harsh and bruising on hers. She growled in the back of her throat, because she liked it, liked his hands pushing against the lace and satin of her shirt, until it was up and over her head and she couldn't even remember his mouth leaving hers.

He was walking her backwards, pressing forward until she was bumping into tables and doors randomly, but she couldn't seem to think – not about anything other than his hands on her skin and his lips against her carotid artery as his tongue moved in time with her pulse. Her hands were seeking refuge as well, pushing his coat and sports jacket off somewhere along the way, and when her hands finally slid under his shirt to his skin, his dropped to her ass, pulling her up and against him tightly.

She frowned as she felt her bed behind her knees, because she didn't remember a door – but he was pushing her back before moving much more carefully to lie beside her. "Your leg –" Her voice was a whisper in the dark and he shot her a glare before kissing her quickly as his hands traced her ribs slowly.

"I took a dangerous amount of pills – no worries." He spoke into the skin of her clavicle, his voice muffled and she felt her breath hitch.

"House –" It was a warning, one that caused him to pull himself back up with a grin. "Fine. Had a massage today and took a slightly large but not life-threatening amount of pills. Better, Mom?" His expression changed on the last word, and she nodded silently as he stilled for a moment.

"Are you sure?" It was the last time she would ask – last time she _could_ ask. He stared at her for a beat, his eyes travelling across her pale skin in the dark room, and she wished she had more light so she could see what he was thinking. He finally smiled, though, and she could see that in the dark. His lips covered hers for a brief moment, softly and sweetly, and she experienced a painful sensation in her chest at how gentle it was.

It was almost unrecognizable for him. She blinked in confusion and he pulled back, smiling. "You know how I love charitable works," he said before kissing her again, and she would have smiled if she could have, because just as suddenly he was back, just like every time before that, his hands quick and graceful on her skin and his mouth only silent when occupied.

So she occupied him.


	20. Smile

A/N: I can't believe it's done. Finished. Over. sigh Of course I have the sequel to comfort me, which I will post soon. How soon depends on reviews. -laughs evully-

As always - many many thanks to Alias424 for beta-ing this. She rocks.

* * *

"Just for the record, my sperm could totally beat up 613's kids."

"Hell, _my _sperm could beat up his kids."

"Something you're not telling me?" He arched a brow at her as he spoke and she felt a grin stretch across her face in response. It felt unnatural – like she was so happy that at any given moment it would all go to hell. He'd stayed the night and woken her up twice – once in the inky dark of night with no light and no sight to guide their fumbling hands and mouths – and once again that morning, with warm arms and the rasp of whiskers against the side of her neck.

He waited for her response as he watched her over the rim of his red coffee cup, but she simply laughed and shrugged. "Nothing you need to know," she poked back, and he smiled reluctantly at her. The waking up had been fine. What came after waking up had been more than fine as well, but now it was an hour later and she could feel the tension creeping back up her spine until it burrowed into her scapula. She felt intensely happy, and absolutely terrified. It was nauseating and stressful. She didn't want to talk about it, but she couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. "House–"

He sighed heavily and drained his cup before shifting in his chair, leaning forward until his forearms rested against the chipped wood of her table. His fingers absently traced the swelling in the middle of the table from the rainstorm ten months ago. "Is this the part where you ask me if I know what I'm doing and I lie and say absolutely and you know I'm lying but you don't say anything, because really – what could you say?"

She frowned for a moment, staring at his intense gaze – electric blue and filled with a frankness she didn't want to see. She dropped her eyes to her own tea – pale amber as it sloshed against the rim of her own cheery yellow mug. She liked the red one better – but he had beaten her to it. "Well, when you put it like that." She spoke in a low tone, her tension forced into the words until they practically burst with it.

"Cuddy." He rolled her name off of his tongue with skill, and she met his eyes again, her breath held. "I don't like to lie to you. Am I raring to be Daddy of the year? No. This is – if you didn't want this –" He paused for a moment, struggling for words as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "You want a baby," he finally stated simply. "I don't – I _can't_ watch you have someone else's baby. And I realize that makes me a selfish prick – but when have I not been that? If – when you get pregnant, I don't know how I'm going to deal with that. I'll try."

She didn't speak while he was attempting to explain. When he finished, she sat silent for a moment, her suddenly cold fingers wrapped around her mug – but her tea was already lukewarm. She turned his words over in her mind – acknowledging their utter truth and disappointment. She had a picture in her mind – of her and him, and soft yellow blankets and blue eyes. His hands were pressed against the swollen wood between them and she watched them – the white around his knuckles and the red tips of his fingernails. Considering where they had been a month ago – five months ago – hell, ten months ago, this was a huge leap forward. They weren't looking. But it was the definition of faith – and she had that in him.

"Nothing changes at work." She spoke in a rough voice and his hands reached for hers, his skin hot against her own.

"Right. So basically I make a bunch of comments about our sex life but now I have fresher material." She smiled at him with a slight laugh. He squeezed her hands with an unrepentant look, and she closed her eyes, seeing the same expression on a small curly-haired boy.

"I'm serious. Nothing here touches work – and nothing from work touches here." There were days – a lot of days – when they wanted to kill each other at work. She couldn't have him taking the anger home. _Home_. She smiled slightly at the thought.

"I get it. When you're stupid and I'm right – I can't bitch about it outside of your office." She pulled her hand back and smacked his lightly.

"Shut up," she growled, and he smiled back at her.

"Make me," he taunted, and she pushed her chair back slowly, standing and abandoning her sunshine mug to stalk around the table until she was practically on top of him. Her eyes dropped to his mouth seconds before her mouth did, and she pushed her hands against his chest as his tongue wrapped around her own, swallowing her moan.

His hand skimmed down her hip before circling behind and gripping her ass tightly, and she pulled back with a smile. "Too bad I can't shut you up like this at work."

"Less talking, more silencing woman."

* * *

"I need the tests!" He was standing in the middle of her office, glaring at her as though the power of his gaze alone could convince her. Which it normally could. But not on this particular day. _Not in this particular moment,_ she corrected herself.

"Yeah? I need _patient _consent." She was leaning against her desk, her arms crossed as she stared at him unflinchingly. He always pounced on the slightest sign of weakness.

"He'd never agree to it – because he's a moron!" House shouted at her, waving his arm as he leaned against the cane heavily.

"No consent, no test," she reprimanded, and he rolled his eyes at her. Her own narrowed as she watched him walk toward her, his expression of anger melting into one of cunning.

"Cuddy..." he cajoled, his hand just barely brushing her hip. Not unusual for them to be in each other's personal space during an argument, but this was different. _They_ were different, and she levelled a glare on him that would fell a lesser man. Or a smarter one.

"If you think touching me is going to make me all horny and complacent, you're wrong. No. Test," she stressed, and he sighed before looking at her with a pout.

"Honestly, what good is sleeping with the boss–"

"Shhh!" She smacked his arm, and he glanced pointedly around her empty office before lowering his voice to a whisper.

"What good is sexing you senseless and volunteering to be your baby Daddy if I can't get a test or two out of it?" She snorted at his words before rolling her eyes.

"Um, you get the sex? Which really isn't a requirement for the whole baby Daddy thing–"

"Oh no – we're doing this natural–"

"No, actually, we're not. The chances are better if we still do the IUI," she pointed out as he pulled back with horror.

"But then our baby won't be born out of love." His tone was scathing and she forced herself to remain calm, despite her heart's increase in rate.

"Oh, shut up. You get to go into a room, with porn you haven't seen, and jerk off – which, except for the porn you haven't seen – is a daily ritual for you." She frowned at him and he leaned towards her, crowding her against the desk as she sighed.

"What if I need help? Would you give me a hand?" He smiled as he spoke, and she choked back a laugh.

"God, I'm reproducing with a twelve-year-old," she sighed, and he tsked above her.

"That's illegal. You hussy." He was staring down her top as he spoke carelessly, and she sighed and braced her hands against his shoulders, shoving him back as she quickly escaped his overwhelming presence and put the desk between them.

"You'd think all the face time you've been getting with the girls lately, you'd cut back on the staring." She spoke in a lower tone and he grinned, finally meeting her eyes.

"If I stopped gazing at their opulence – it'd look odd. And we're compartmentalizing, remember?" He added helpfully, and she ran a hand through her hair as she sat down and pulled her chair up to the desk.

"Which reminds me – I have an appointment tomorrow with Robin – you should come." She was looking down at her calendar as she spoke and his laughter made her look up.

"Oh I _will._"

"Pig."

"Whore."

"Would you have it any other way?" she bit back triumphantly, and he shrugged and shook his head. She savoured the brief victory – because that's all they ever were with him.

"I have to go convince a patient that a test that will most likely kill him briefly, will actually save his life. Once I have your precious consent – I've got a green light, right?" He walked back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to look back at her.

"_Written_ consent, and yes," she responded, meeting his eyes and smiling.

"Uh huh, whatever. I might be stuck here for a bit –" he hedged awkwardly, and she watched his nervousness with her grin still in place.

"I'm working late anyway. Just swing by before you leave and update me on the patient."

* * *

"There's something wrong with House," Wilson announced solemnly as he placed his tray next to hers at her table.

"Tell me something new," she mumbled, and he looked at her in exasperation.

"I'm serious! He's been – _smiling_." Wilson waved his hands as he whispered, and she watched him in amusement before continuing to eat her salad. House had accompanied her to her appointment yesterday and had been predictably crude with Robin and generally annoying. His reaction when informed his sperm would be put through a cleansing cycle, had been priceless, however, and worth the embarrassment that was naturally born of House being in a gynaecologist's office.

The medical models alone were enough to keep him in all kinds of trouble.

"Oh no! Smiling? Alert the media." She was being purposefully obtuse with Wilson – and she felt a bit bad about it, but she wasn't about to blurt out that fantastic daily sex tended to improve one's outlook on life.

"Cuddy – you don't understand. This is _House_. House is never really happy – the world would implode if he were –"

"Are my ears burning?" House dropped into the seat on the other side of her, and Wilson sat back as though caught red-handed. "Cause I could swear I heard my name. Was it all good? Should I be blushing?" He picked up his sandwich as he spoke, and she smiled over at him for a moment.

"When is any discussion about you complimentary?" she sniped, and he looked over at her wide-eyed, with a mouth full of bread and meat.

"I don't know – I believe you prayed to God about me a few times – seemed complimentary to me." She froze at his words before watching Wilson roll his eyes and stab his own salad passive-aggressively. Shooting a glare at House, she deliberately ignored his words.

"Nothing. It was nothing." Wilson's voice was high, and House frowned across at him before shrugging and taking another bite.

"Smooth," she said out of the corner of her mouth, watching as Wilson flushed uncomfortably and twirled his fork in his food.

"Look at that!" Wilson's voice was even higher as he stood and pointed to his watch while attempting to hold his tray. "I have a patient – and I'm gonna be late – I'll talk to you later, Cuddy. House." He nodded emphatically – four times – before turning and dropping his tray with his untouched food and speeding toward the exit.

"You know – it's almost fun messing with him. I vote we never tell him. Even when you reach whale proportions – we'll just tell him it's gas." House spoke through his food and she rolled her eyes.

"If you _ever_ call me a whale again, I'll stab you with a fork. And he isn't stupid, House – he'll figure it out eventually. Apparently you've been too _happy_ lately. Tone it down."

"Dammit – I knew frolicking with those forest animals the other day would give me away." He sighed and she choked back a laugh as she watched him with a small smile. "It's not like I'm bursting into song or anything – your girly parts aren't _that _powerful."

"Denial doesn't make the truth go away, House. You can admit it – they _are_ that good." He glared at her and she did laugh then, a throaty chuckle that made his gaze darken from ice to aqua. "He's your best friend – he knows you well enough to know that you aren't as miserable as usual."

"I'm about to tear up. You don't make me miserable – that's so touching." He waved a hand by his eyes to dry his non-existent tears before looking at her seriously. "It'll take him a while to put it all together. Besides, I'm barely accustomed to the idea I'm mating with the devil – let _me_ get used to it first and then I'll tell him."

She didn't press the issue, because deep down, she was happy they weren't telling Wilson. It was familiar and comforting – they had never told him before – and she really didn't need to hear Wilson's 'House is a fragile flower, don't crush him' speech. At times, Wilson cared a little too much for her liking.

"Are you thinking about the shower this morning?" House's voice was low in her ear and she startled, glancing at him incredulously.

"What? No!" she denied, and he nodded thoughtfully. This morning had been – well, interesting to say the least. It was the first night she had stayed at his place, and he had made their morning more than interesting. A slight flush diffused through her skin, spreading down over her chest as she bit her lip thoughtfully.

"You are now, though, right?" His smile was wicked, and she shifted in her chair, the warmth spreading lower as she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs.

"I hate you," she muttered, and his grin grew as she stood up roughly.

"Your mouth says hate, but your panties say love," he teased as he stood as well, following her to the doorway, his hand 'accidentally' brushing her ass every few steps.

"Really, _really_ hate you," she whispered as they entered the lobby, and she broke off toward her office without looking back. Despite that, she allowed her hips to undulate a little more slowly, knowing he was watching her walk away.

* * *

"So it says here that sex is recommended after implantation." She was lying on the sofa with her arms behind her head as he sat at her laptop reading.

"Oh please – like you need the recommendation to justify yourself." She spoke with her eyes closed and tried to remember to breathe in and out. Her final injection had been two hours ago – and they were going into Robin's office first thing tomorrow morning.

"I'm just pointing it out now – so you don't try to give me the 'I just got implanted and I have a headache' excuse tomorrow." His voice was distracted, and she could hear the mechanical clicks as he scrolled through the information.

"Uh huh." She heard the squeak of his chair turning and the tell-tale thump of his cane against the carpet as he moved closer to her. When she opened her eyes, he was just sitting next to her, looking down at her awkwardly.

"You're nervous." His voice was blunt, and she nodded. He watched her for a moment before lifting a hand and brushing her hair back clumsily. "You shouldn't be."

"Why not?" her voice was a whisper and he frowned down at her.

"How should I know – I was just hoping you'd follow the order, not look for explanation. I suck at the sensitivity thing, Cuddy." She laughed slightly at his words and his frown deepened. "Oh sure, mock my deficiencies. Want me to call Wilson? He's good at this crap." She sat up and leaned into him, hugging him tightly as he sat there and allowed her to.

"No. I feel better."

"Liar," he whispered into her hair, and she pulled back, getting lost in the blue of eyes for a moment.

"Distract me."

"That I can do," he mumbled before lowering his head to hers. She kept her eyes open, feeling the warmth of his mouth and drowning in so much blue she couldn't think of anything else.

* * *

"I didn't think there would be this much waiting." She flopped back against the exam table and he snorted from beside her.

"Please. All you've done so far is taken off your pants. I've been subjected to bad porn –"

"Oh the horrors." She quipped dryly, and he shot a glare at her.

"Some nurse who looks like she should be named Helga snatching my magic man juice before I even pulled my pants up – and now they're 'treating it' – and for the record, it's probably taking so long because there's just so much –"

"Helga? Really? And if the porn was bad –"

"I just thought about you in that little short set you wear. Instant gratification." He spoke quickly and she rolled her eyes before pulling herself up onto her elbows.

"You are such a –"

"Are we all ready?" Robin said brightly as she breezed into the room with barely a knock.

"We? Are any of your body parts directly involved?" House sniped, and Robin just grinned.

"Do my hands count? I think they do. How are you feeling, Lisa? Nervous?" Robin placed a reassuring hand on Cuddy's shoulder as she spoke.

"A bit," Cuddy hedged, trying not to smile at the faces House was pulling behind Robin's shoulder.

"Just try to relax. You know the success rates – if it doesn't happen this month, we just try again next month." Robin's eyes were warm as she stepped back and moved to the foot of the table.

Cuddy nodded and laid back, her head feeling unnaturally heavy as she turned to stare at House, who was sitting beside her and bouncing his cane off the floor repeatedly. He didn't want to be there, she knew. Which meant that his presence alone meant more to her than anyone else who would hold her hand and sooth her.

"Are you ready?" Robin's voice was muffled, and Cuddy nodded in response, even though Robin couldn't see her.

She felt an odd sensation – a pinch and a push, and she closed her eyes, trying to think positive thoughts. When she opened them, House was staring at her with serious eyes, and she smiled to show him she was fine. He frowned for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand in his as he leaned closer.

"I hope you know what you're getting into." Her tension seeped away at his words and she chuckled before squeezing his hand and letting it go.

"God, I hope so, too."

* * *

"I think we should do it again. Just to be sure." His voice was out of breath and he was panting lightly as she laughed, wrapping the sheet over her shoulder as she rolled over and tucked her head below his chin.

"Yeah, but if this one doesn't take – I need you alive." Her own breathing was unsteady and she could hear his heart below her ear as her fingers traced along his ribs.

"Are you saying I can't handle round – wait – which round are we on again?"

"The Viagra-sponsored one?" she teased, and he huffed loudly.

"I don't think so," he denied quickly, and she laughed gently, tilting her head so she could look up at him with a smile.

"Does this ever feel odd to you?"

"This as in us naked – or this as in us purposely trying to knock you up?" He answered her question with two of his own.

"Both." She waited patiently for his answer, watching as he stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully and hearing his breathing slow and steady below her ear.

"All the time. I mean – the naked part we've had some experience with – I don't know if you remember–" His tone was light, but she frowned at the darker memories his words brought up. She remembered everything. The happier times were few and far between the more painful images that clouded her mind whenever she reminisced. Her hand flattened against his chest, right next to her cheek, and she could feel the steady one-two-three of his heartbeat below her skin.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft, and his arm wrapped around her, warming her suddenly chilled skin.

"Cuddy?" He spoke her name tentatively, and she glanced back up at him enquiringly. "Do you think our kid could take over the world? I'm pretty sure between my brains and your work ethic – of course, it could get screwed up, and it could get _your_ brains and _my_ work ethic –" She laughed at that and smacked him lightly.

"Shut up and go to sleep." He nodded in response and rolled over, pushing her so that she had little choice but to roll over as well. He didn't let go, though, and she closed her eyes with an exhausted smile and his warmth at her back.

* * *

"Can I have this guy?" House burst into her office after fifteen minutes in the clinic – it had to be a personal record.

"Sure." She didn't even glance at the file he was waving as she frowned down at performance evaluations – they were stacked high all over her desk. "_Afte_r you finish your clinic hours."

"But _Moooom_! He has a swollen tongue!"

"Give him an epi." She finally looked up at him with a glare and he rolled his eyes.

"D'uh. I did. Not allergies. And you should hear him try to talk _- __Ducktor__Houwse_ – it's priceless. Want me to bring him in here and make him tell you about his food preferences?" She stared at him as he grinned at her unrepentantly.

"House! It's infection – or toxins –" She finally reached past the highest pile of papers, leaning over and grabbing the file from his hands.

"Or it could be none of those things."

"He has a fever."

"And a funny speaking voice," House countered, and she sighed.

"You're avoiding clinic," she pointed out, and he nodded.

"Like the plague. Except I wouldn't actually avoid the plague – that could be fun. Point is you don't know what's wrong with him, and my kids need a case anyway." She glanced heavenward for a moment before sighing and tossing the file back to him.

"Fine. But you will finish your clinic hours while they're running pointless tests because it's an infection." He frowned at her words and she shrugged. "Final offer."

"You know – I'm gonna put this bitchiness down to hormones – and forgive you for it." He walked toward the door as she watched in exasperation. "Oh and the boobs look a little firmer. You think it's a sign?" She didn't have a chance to respond – or throw something at him – before he ducked through the door with a triumphant grin.

Her eyes fell back to the piles of paper around her and she sighed heavily – something very like regret rushing through her as he escaped, along with any excuse for distraction.

* * *

She ran a hand over her face as she stared at the umpteenth report. She hated evaluations. Not just because of the amount of work they represented, but she hated the vague unspecific feedback most department heads gave. Everyone was so PC in these things – never saying outright that this person needed to go or that person was fantastic. Everything – good or bad – was qualified.

Except of course, House's reports. Evaluations were the one thing he loved to hand in on time – each year's report more outlandish than the next. Equally annoying – but at least they were a change.

"Dr. Cuddy!" Brenda burst into her office, her skin unnaturally pale and her hands shaking. Brenda was absolutely unflappable, and upon seeing Brenda's shaken demeanour, Cuddy felt everything around her slow down imperceptibly. Her stomach lurched and sank rapidly, causing bile to rise in her throat and the muscles of her abdomen to clench nervously.

"Brenda?" Her voice was thick, and she heard the words slowly, like they were pushing out of her mouth and through a physical barrier to get to her eardrums. She wanted to move – stand or shift to the left, or raise her hands and press them against her desk. Something – anything to brace herself for the bad news she instinctively knew was coming. Her mind was running through the possibilities as she waited – a fire in the hospital, or a security crisis, or a patient bleeding out all over the clinic.

"There was a shooting," Brenda started, and she felt the blood in her body drop five degrees and trudge through her veins as her thoughts turned to patients and security and calling the police. The thoughts should have been rapid but they too were pushing through the semi-frozen slush of her grey matter, and Brenda looked entirely too upset for this to be a patient shot. Staff member, maybe – and then her synapses fired in a slow thumping beat – like and odd funeral march as she imagined first one staff member and then another.

"Dr. House is being taken down to the ER– " Brenda was still speaking – at least Cuddy was fairly sure she was, because her mouth was still moving, but all Cuddy could hear was the loud buzzing in her ears. House. Shooting. ER.

She felt like every particle of air was being sucked out of the room, leaving her in a vacuum of nothingness and white noise and a non-reality. She was dreaming. This was a bad dream, because who would hurt – who would _shoot_ –

"Dr. Cuddy?!" Brenda's hand was on her arm, and she tried to shrug her off, but she couldn't seem to move. Couldn't seem to make her brain think the command, couldn't make herself get up and face him – he was probably laughing about this right now – because of course only his sick twisted mind would come up with such a joke. _Brenda would never help him_. And just as she thought her mind had slowed to the point of not existing, it suddenly sped up and slammed right into the wall of reality.

_Brenda would never help him._

"Lisa –"

_Brenda would never call her Lisa_.

"He's asking for you –"

_House would never ask for her._

"– going to the ER –"

_She couldn't watch him die. __Again._

"– lost a lot of blood –"

_Her hands wrapped around his blood and hers._

"– straight through, they'll try to repair –"

_His and hers._

"– security got the shooter –"

_Hers and his._

"You need to come with me, Lisa. Now."

Her body stood, and she stumbled before Brenda's hands steadied her. Her hands dropped down to her stomach and she pressed them there for a moment before feeling time slip away in a blinding rush of seconds and minutes.

He asked for her.

_For them._

She ran.


End file.
